


Wildflowers

by Descaladumidera



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I just wanted some fluffy IronStrange, LATER, M/M, Stephen works in a flower shop, Tony is still the owner of Stark Industries, all is very fluffy, and SMUT, drama will be minimal, flowershop au, idk yet, if there is any drama at all, no powers, tbh this isn't really planned through
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: Run away, find you a loverGo away somewhere all bright and newI have seen no otherWho compares with youExcerpt from chapter 6:Stephen’s grin only grew and he quickly leaned in to steal a kiss. Tony gasped in mock surprise and tried to get his kiss back, sticky smoothie sloshing over his hand and trousers in the process. That was when Tony and Stephen decided to place their glasses on the small table in front of the couch and exchange drinking smoothies for trading kisses. With sticky hands and dirty clothes and far too much laughter that made aiming for the mouth quite difficult.





	1. Variegated Tulip

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t really written anything in ages and here I am, trying a multichapter fic. Please end me. :))

“Boss, you know I could get—”

“No, Happy, I need to do this myself. It can’t be too hard, right? People do this every day!”

Tony sat comfortably in the back-seat of one of his sleek cars—he really had no idea which one—while Happy tried to manoeuvre them through the dense streets of New York City in search of a—Tony didn’t even want to think the words—flower shop. Now, why would Tony Stark, billionaire extraordinaire, himself go out in pursuit of a flower shop if he could just have his faithful AI JARVIS order it for him from his tower? Fact was, Pepper’s birthday was today. And, of course, Tony completely forgot about it. Between sleepless nights in his lab, inventing the newest StarkPhone, visiting his other facilities to make sure the clean energy research made progress, and mentoring an excitable 15-year-old (his intern, he loved the kid, but sometimes his energy was too much for Tony) it must have slipped his mind.

He just couldn’t face Pepper like this. Not with empty hands or a gift, ordered last minute. She would know immediately. Especially when she got a glimpse of the bags under his eyes, which he currently hid behind one of his fancy shades.

No, he needed to fall to his knees in front of one of his best friends and beg for forgiveness, because she put up with his shit for years. And a hastily ordered bouquet of flowers just wouldn’t do it. And thus Tony found himself looking for a flower shop that could meet his desires—he would send Happy out to get a box of chocolates—“Don’t forget, no strawberries!”—while he was occupied with picking the right flowers for Pepper. Yes, that was as good a plan as any.

“Boss? How about this one?”

Tony’s eyes snapped up and right next to them was a little shop, barely visible, hiding between a Hugo Boss boutique and a jeweller that apparently sold Rolex watches. Tony has never been here before. Or at least he couldn’t remember to have ever been to any of these stores in his entire life.

But the flower shop looked nice. It was small, but the decoration was lively and warm, a kind of softness to it that spoke to Tony in a way that made him vacate the car, yell to Happy to get the said box of chocolates and to pick him up when he called him. Happy, good soul that he was, only nodded and drove off, so he wouldn’t aggravate the people waiting behind their car any longer.

Righting his tie, Tony walked up to the glass door, a flowery ornament curling around the edges and the handle, and pushed it open. He was immediately met by a bunch of smells, all foreign to New York City, but so comforting that he stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. _Damn, more places should smell like this_ , he thought, _like open air and fields. I should take the kid out of the city some time._ _And his aunt. Maybe Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, too._ He made a mental note to tell JARVIS to set a reminder.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A deep, friendly voice floated through the shop from the counter on the other side of the room and dragged Tony out of his vacation plans. With a smooth motion—he has perfected it over the years, so he knew it was _very_ smooth—Tony took off his glasses, plastered on a smile, and looked over to the man standing there.

He walked over with a few strides—honestly, this shop was _tiny_!—until he stopped right in front of the counter, leaning on it and projecting all his charm onto the poor fellow, who looked back at him with pale blue eyes, that seemed to have a grey note to them. Tony tried not to be distracted by the fact that the guy was really handsome. “Hello there. I need a bouquet of flowers that says something akin to, ‘sorry for being such a pain in the ass and that you always have to clean up my messes and that you always need to drag my sorry ass out of the holes I dug myself,’ but that also conveys, ‘thank you for being my friend and by the way, happy birthday!’ That doable?”

The man hadn’t looked away from him while he rambled on, hadn’t even blinked. And now he was stroking his—awesome—goatee with one hand (were that scars?), while quietly humming. “I think I can help you, Mr. Stark,” he said and Tony wasn’t even surprised that the man knew his name.

“Great. How long will it take? An hour? Two? I can have someone pick it—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the guy just waved him off. Tony snapped his mouth shut. How dare he! He really didn’t like to be cut off and usually he would have a witty quip on the tip of his tongue. But the fact that a mere flower shop clerk dared to do this to him, had him speechless.

“It will probably take around fifteen minutes, Mr. Stark,” the man said and Tony couldn’t fail to notice that he didn’t lose the pleasant warmth and calm to his voice, even as Tony tried to kill him with the look in his eyes. But the man just moved from behind the counter to walk over to the first batch of colourful flowers, and asked, “I assume you won’t care about the price?”

Tony was dumbstruck. This guy really had some gall. “No,” he grit out and crossed his arms in front of his chest. How did one person manage to rile him up in less than ten minutes? Tony prided himself in having his emotions under control in public, but now he was close to snapping. But instead of doing so, he took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and asked for the man’s name. He could just give him a nickname in his head, like he did with everyone, but contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark did indeed care about the names of people he _wants_ to talk to.

“D— Stephen Strange,” the guy—Strange, okay, what the hell?—replied with his always pleasant smile. Tony had to suppress a snicker at the surname, but obviously it didn’t go unnoticed by the other man, whose eyes crinkled in amusement. “Yeah, I know, weird name. Don’t judge me, I didn’t choose it.”

“You could change it.”

“Why should I? It’s a good conversation starter.” Strange seemed to talk effortlessly while he picked flowers and greens and arranged them in a neat bouquet. Tony wondered if his wish would make said bouquet far too big—he knew how much Pepper hated if it was too big—but Strange seemed to be good at his job, keeping the colours balanced with the greens, and keeping the size at bay. It was quite hypnotising to watch him work. In fact so much that Tony forgot to answer. “Cat got your tongue?” Strange teased and Tony snapped out of watching the scarred, trembling hands of the man work confidently with each stem of each and every single flower.

“Excuse me?” He asked, maybe a bit too harsh and Strange quickly looked away, sighing.

“Sorry,” he said while grabbing some greens and placing them neatly on one side, his mouth changing from a smile into a thin line. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Suddenly Tony felt bad for snapping at the poor man, who obviously couldn’t know that Tony was stressed beyond belief. Otherwise he would have just quipped back, maybe even teased him with a grin of his own. Suppressing a groan, he rubbed one hand over his face. “No, it’s alright. Shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was as close as he would get to one and Tony thought that this would have to do it. Strange just nodded and his lips stretched into an easy smile again. Damn, Tony wished he was this forgiving.

The remaining time that Strange worked they spent in silence, Tony watching every movement, instead of looking at his phone like he had planned to do while waiting. But he was too caught up in the deft and confident movements of these too fragile looking hands to care much about checking his mails. What was it about Strange’s hands that drew such a fascination from Tony? Sure, they were scarred and they trembled, but otherwise Strange didn’t seem to struggle because of them. Or did he? If Tony looked closely, he saw Strange hesitating one or two times when gripping the stems of the flowers and bringing them together with the greens. A twitch of Strange’s face alerted Tony to a burst of pain when the man finally tied the bouquet together and walked back behind the counter. But before Tony could say anything about it, Strange had his smile back in place, wrapped a beautiful looking paper frill around the flowers, and presented his work to him.

And Tony could admire it. He always admired people working and creating with their hands and the bouquet did truly look gorgeous.

“Is this to your liking, Mr. Stark?” Strange inquired and Tony couldn’t help the smile that stretched his lips.

“It’s beautiful,” he answered and looked at the flowers, a bit put out by the single sunflower in the middle. He pointed at it. “Why is there a sunflower? It looks a bit … mundane.”

He expected Strange to be offended, but the man just started to chuckle and placed the bouquet gently on the counter, flowers pointing in Tony’s direction. “Sunflowers stand for adoration, loyalty and longevity. I thought it fitted your order. If you don’t like it, I will take it out, of course,” Strange explained patiently.

Huh. That was indeed nice and now Tony, who had never been interested in flowers before, was curious. “So, Stranger, care to explain your other choices to me, too? Or do I need to be offensive towards every other flower, before you grace me with your knowledge?” Okay, maybe there was a flirty tone to his voice, but that was nothing new if you dealt with Tony Stark. Right?

“Stranger? That’s what you are going with? I’ve heard better,” Strange retorted on a whim and Tony grinned. Okay, this he could definitely do. “But yes, I will generously grant you an explanation without you asking me specifically for each flower.”

“Thank you, oh great flower-magician!” Strange snorted and shook his head and Tony chalked it up as a personal victory.

“So, this”—Strange pointed at a bunch of yellow blossoms, all sticking together on one stem—“is agrimony. You might have seen it growing in fields if you went out into nature at one point. It might be a common field flower, but it means thankfulness, which I thought fits very well.”

Tony nodded. It seemed mundane to him, but he knew that Pepper had a vast knowledge of flower meanings and he also knew that she didn’t like the show-off bouquets of pretty flowers. She appreciated the work behind the gesture. That was why Tony went to personally get a bouquet in the first place.

“And this one”—this time he pointed at some of the greens and Tony was shortly astounded that even that seemed to have a meaning—“is arborvitae, standing for everlasting friendship.” And the guy had the gall to wink at him. Maybe he had found out for whom the flowers were meant. And if that was the case … It was no secret how deep the friendship between Pepper Potts and Tony Stark went. The media had taken ages to get their head out of the gutter and finally accept that, no, Tony and Pepper weren’t dating, thank you very much.

Before Strange could start his next explanation, Tony pointed at a bright red flower that had caught his eye right after the sunflower. “What’s that?”

Strange smiled indulgently and Tony wondered how this man was this patient with him. “That’s an azalea. It tells the receiver to take care and it also means gratitude and passion. I usually don’t make assumptions, but it’s widely known that Miss Potts’ birthday is today, so I assumed this bouquet would be for her?”

Strange sounded confident, but Tony could hear a bit of uncertainty out of his voice. The poor guy probably feared he fucked up. Usually Tony would now like to play some games, to make the poor fellow regret everything. But instead he found himself nodding. “Yeah. I … kinda forgot. Please don’t tell her, she will behead me,” he said and winked for good measure. “So, next flower?”

Strange nodded and showed him a bell-mouthed, violet flower. “This is a campanula, it represents gratefulness. I thought it might go nicely with what you tried to convey with all the apologies you added. There is a nice saying out there: ‘Instead of saying sorry, say thank you.’ So, I went with saying thank you with this bouquet instead of you being sorry. I bet Miss Potts would have been long gone if she didn’t want to put up with you and, thus, a thank you weighs more than a thousand apologies.”

Tony was dumbfounded. And he was probably looking at Strange like a deer caught in headlights, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now. It was as if Strange understood him and that made Tony somehow very uncomfortable. He swallowed and licked his lips, trying to get his mask back in place, before answering, “yeah, sounds about right. Next, please.” If his voice sounded a bit hoarse, Strange didn’t mention it.

“Right. This one, the slightly pink one, is a gladiolus. As it is the flower of the gladiators, it stands for strength of character, honour and conviction. As you mentioned the person receiving the flowers put up with all your … bullshit,” Strange said and Tony saw the hint of a mischievous smirk, “I thought this fitted quite well. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, definitely. She is one of a kind,” Tony answered in a heartbeat, a soft smile settling on his face, while he thought of Pepper. Strong, good-hearted Pepper. Damn, he didn’t deserve her.

Strange cleared his throat and just went on as if nothing had happened, much to Tony’s relief. “The other violet flowers are hydrangea. Sadly they have negative meanings with frigidness and heartlessness, but they also stand for heartfelt gratitude for being understood. And as Miss Potts definitely isn’t stupid, she will understand why you chose this one.” Not ‘why _I_ chose this one’. Tony looked up and right into Strange’s smiling face, his pale blue eyes captivating. Yes, okay, this man was definitely handsome. Tony wouldn’t mind spending a bit more time here.

He looked at his phone, seeing that he has already spent more than half an hour in the little shop. Well, Happy could wait for a while longer. Ignoring Strange’s inquiring look, he gestured for him to go on with his explanations. Tony would never say it out loud, but it was really interesting.

Next was a bunch of pale, yellow flowers. They didn’t look like anything special, but if Strange insisted on them, they better mean something good. “These are primroses. Their meaning is irrelevant, but they are the birth flowers of February. For her birthday.”

Made sense, so Tony nodded—he did that a lot since he came here.

“Okay, these are the last ones, the rest is just decoration, so you are nearly done and can leave the class,” Strange said and winked. The last flowers were obviously tulips, even Tony knew that. “The pink tulips mean caring, good wishes, friendship and joyful occasions; the blue ones stand for respect, tranquillity and trust; and the orange ones mean understanding and appreciation.”

Tony nodded along to everything and finally looked back up at Strange, his eyes leaving the colourful flowers. “Okay, tell me, oh great flower-wizard, how can you keep all of this knowledge inside that head of yours, huh? Because that seems like a lot of stuff that fills up a lot of space and I can’t imagine any normal clerk at a flower shop would care to remember all of this. Or maybe you just told me a bunch of bullshit.”

Strange laughed. Not chuckled or smirked, but outright laughed, and it was a deep and pleasant sound, much like his voice. Damn, yes, Tony like it. “I have an eidetic memory.”

Huh. “Oh, wow, that’s certainly useful.”

And as much as he wanted to stay, he really needed to get back to the tower. Pepper would certainly know that he forgot her birthday, but at least he could make up for it with this amazing bouquet of beautiful flowers. And when he gave Strange 100$ more than the flowers were worth, he had to tell nobody (but he would totally remember Strange’s face when he told him he could keep the change—“take it to change your surname, Stranger”).

When he was finally outside again, waiting for Happy, he put his free hand in his suit’s pocket—only to take it out immediately with a flower in hand. _Strange must’ve snuck that in there_ , Tony thought with a grin and looked over his shoulder and through the glass door. But the man was nowhere to be seen. He should be annoyed, but honestly, the single flower with a small piece of paper attached to it, made him feel all warm. It was a tulip.

He fumbled with one hand to read what was written on the paper, the handwriting shaky: _Variegated Tulip—Beautiful Eyes_


	2. Plumeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, back to Strange, who couldn’t be any more different from Steve than he already was. With his green-blue-grey eyes that seemed to switch between colours whenever the angle of light changed; with his sharp features and his high cheekbones; with his long, elegant limbs that somehow didn’t make him gangly but elegant; with his neatly styled hair that had a few grey streaks at the sides, which made him even more handsome; with his damn goatee that equalled Tony’s in awesomeness.

The next few days had Tony at a loss. He just couldn’t stop rolling the tulip between his fingers, staring at the accompanying paper. _Beautiful Eyes_. He shook his head. Did this Strange fellow really think that or was it just plump flirting, because he was Tony Stark?

“Fuck if I knew,” Tony grumbled and placed the tulip, which looked quite sad and withered from all his manhandling and the lack of water, on his workbench.

He hadn’t been able to do anything productive, because every time he tried to get lost in his work, Strange’s face appeared before his mind’s eye, smirking at him devilishly. And then he had to think about the damn tulip and its meaning and Tony wondered if he should react or leave it be.

“You know, you could just talk to the man.”

Tony sighed and looked up, seeing Pepper standing in the door, arms crossed. Of course he had told her about his weird (and quite charming) encounter with the flower shop clerk. And of course Pepper knew exactly what was on his mind right now—she was one of his best friends after all.

“Or I could not,” he replied, twisting the stem of the tulip between his fingers, nearly breaking it.

Pepper sauntered over to him, crossing her arms and propping her hip against his work bench. “Okay. You are going to be bullheaded about this. But you know you won’t get anything done as long as your mind is on this guy, right?”

“Pep—”

“Nope. Hush now, I’m talking and I’m not done yet,” she interrupted him and smiled as he rolled his eyes in good humour. Maybe she really had a solution for his little problem. “So, you don’t want to talk to him. I don’t know why, you probably have your reasons—or not. But think about this: Why not play his game?”

Tony scrunched his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean by that, exactly?” He asked, confusion written clearly on his face as he tried to read Pepper’s expression. And the woman could barely contain her laughter, he could tell!

“Isn’t it obvious? Send him a flower back!” And now she had the audacity to giggle!

Tony smiled crookedly. “Miss Potts, are you giggling?”

“Nope, you are imagining things,” she replied and her eyes shone mischievously. “So, will you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Send him a flower that conveys what you want to say to him, of course.” Did she really roll her eyes at him? The cheek.

And then it dawned on Tony what she had just said. “What?”

“You heard me right,” she answered with a wink and made to leave, grabbing a stack of papers with his signature from his desk on her way out.

With a start, Tony made to go after her, yelling, “and how do I do that? I haven’t the slightest clue about flower meanings! You need to help me, Pep!”

“No can do. I have a company to tend to. You will find a way—the internet would be a good start. Good luck!” And with that she was out of the door and left him with a forlorn expression and a pout on his face. Not that Tony would ever admit that he pouted. Starks didn’t pout!

With a sigh he turned around and slumped down in a chair. He could just ask JARVIS to do the research for him, but he was sure that he wouldn’t get anything done, before he figured out what to do with Strange. So he did it himself, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard, typing into the search bar.

“DUM-E, get me a coffee. This could take a while.”

His robot complied with a faithful beep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony didn’t know how many flower meanings he had looked up, how many he had considered and immediately discarded. He didn’t want a flower that meant _love_ or _love at first sight_ or _eternal love_ or anything like that. He barely knew the man, goddammit!

After a while it occurred to him that he didn’t even know what he wanted to convey with the flower he would be—inevitably—sending. And maybe he should get that sorted first, before plunging himself even deeper into the language of flowers.

He groaned. Tony Stark and emotional didn’t get well together and everyone knew it. He let his forehead bang on the table and let himself be miserable for a moment, before he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and composed himself.

Okay, he needed to get a grip on himself. And he really needed to find a flower to his liking—one that was flirty, but not too overbearing.

He wanted to play a bit with Strange. The man really intrigued him. Not only because he was handsome and pleasant to look at, but because he seemed rather intelligent and able to keep up with Tony’s sarcasm and wit. And he had also flirted with him in a subtle way that Tony wasn’t opposed to. Not like a lot of other people, who simply wanted to get into his pants (or his money), who only wanted to have a notch on their bedpost that read ‘Tony Stark’. The times when he hadn’t cared about any of this were long over and Tony valued himself a bit more than that. It had taken years of convincing from Pepper and Rhodey that he was worth so much more, but it had finally started to stick.

So now he was sitting here, contemplating a date with a stranger (no pun intended), just because said stranger hadn’t pounced on him like some desperate teenager. _Wow, am I really that pathetic?_ Tony thought and shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. “He showed me some common decency and left the ball in my court, so that _I_ can decide if I want to pursue this. Shit.”

“Is everything alright, Sir?” JARVIS’ bodiless voice made Tony yelp in surprise.

“Fuck! JARVIS, you can’t scare me like this, I have a heart condition!” His voice was louder than intended, but there was no bite behind the words. He should have known that JARVIS would pop up with some unwarranted comment sooner or later, considering that he had programmed his AI to give him contra now and again—and also to remind him to eat and sleep and be healthy when Tony was, again, stuck in one of his working frenzies.

“My apologies, Sir,” JARVIS responded and didn’t sound sorry at all. Tony snorted. “You seem to be stuck in your researches, so I am complied to ask if you need my assistance?”

Tony shook his head, but stopped mid-motion. “You know what? Yeah, I could use your help.”

“How, Sir?” JARVIS inquired.

Tony bit his lip in contemplation if he really wanted to do this. But in the end he had never cared about this before, so why should he now? “Get me everything you can find about Stephen Strange, lives in New York. The name shouldn’t be too common.”

“As you wish.”

“Thanks, JAR.”

And with that Tony focused back on flowers and which one to send to a certain flower shop clerk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He spent another hour until he had narrowed it down to at least some flowers and their respective meanings. At first he was tempted to send Strange a lime blossom, because Wikipedia listed its meaning as _fornication_ and Tony had a quiet chuckle at that. But he really didn’t want to put Strange off immediately—or only have a one-night-stand if the man took him by this offer. No. Strange was a too interesting kind of guy for Tony to blow him off like that.

So he turned to the other options he had written down.

Sending a red and yellow rose together would mean _joy_ , _happiness_ and _excitement_ , but Tony thought this sounded like he was an overenthusiastic Golden Retriever and he’d rather not Strange think that of him. Okay, maybe he was kind of excited, but mostly because Strange could be an equal to him. And he wouldn’t tell that to anyone, not even if someone threatened him with a gun. He needed to at least keep a bit of his pride, thank you very much.

Also, Golden Retrievers always reminded him of Steve and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to think about Mr. Pretty-Boy with his blond hair and his perfect blue eyes, his muscles and—okay, stop. He wouldn’t think about Steve any longer, no. He knew he thought his friend quite attractive, but it was not _his kind_ of attractive. It was more Bucky’s kind and it was ridiculous how disgustingly happy his two friends were with each other. (Sometimes he wished he could have a relationship like them. He would never say this out loud.)

So, back to Strange, who couldn’t be any more different from Steve than he already was. With his green-blue-grey eyes that seemed to switch between colours whenever the angle of light changed; with his sharp features and his high cheekbones; with his long, elegant limbs that somehow didn’t make him gangly but elegant; with his neatly styled hair that had a few grey streaks at the sides, which made him even more handsome; with his damn goatee that equalled Tony’s in awesomeness.

Tony cleared his throat, cheeks uncomfortably warm as he recalled the image of the man. Of his slightly sarcastic smile and his quick and clever responses to Tony’s quips. And thinking about this made him think about the man’s lips, full and somehow sinful, made for kissing (and sucking cock—if Tony was honest with himself for a second). _Fuck, I sound like a_ _hormon_ _e-driven_ _teenager_ , he thought and snorted, amused at his own antics, relieved that no one was witnessing his behaviour.

With a sigh he went back to his list, he really needed to get this done, so he could get back to inventing stuff and making the world a better place. He groaned. Why was this so difficult? And why did he get distracted all the time?

Okay, next flower.

Tony opened the tab with the viscaria. Gifting this flower was apparently an invitation to dance and Tony dismissed it immediately. He wasn’t going to ask Strange to dance with him. Well, not yet. Maybe another time, when they knew each other better. Maybe after they had gone on a date. Yes, that would be a good idea. “JARVIS, make a note to get a viscaria flower thing when I decide to take Strange out on a date.”

“All done, Sir.”

Tony hummed in satisfaction and looked at his last option. “Well, plumeria it is then. It means _perfection_ , _springtime_ and _new beginnings_. Do you think that will be alright, JAR?”

If it was possible for an AI to have a thoughtful pause, JARVIS had mastered it. “As it appears to be spring soon and your acquaintance with Dr. Strange is fairly new, I would say it suffices, Sir. As to the perfection, I would say he is attractive to normal human standards from what I gathered from my research.”

_Doctor?_ Tony wondered briefly, but decided to wait for JARVIS’ whole report to ask about that. Instead he snorted and shook his head, before he replied, “sometimes you are unbelievable. But yes, he is fairly handsome. I wouldn’t go as far as perfect, but yeah. And I chose this flower for its meaning for new beginnings, because this is a new beginning. At least I hope so. I would like it to be, he seems interesting and he has a certain charm about him. It would be nice to have someone to talk to who can match me—maybe he is even intelligent enough to match my intelligence, who knows? And—”

Before he could keep on talking, though, JARVIS interrupted him, rather rudely, “Sir, you are rambling.”

Tony immediately shut his mouth, before taking a deep breath, suppressing a groan. “Sorry, JAR.”

“It is alright, Sir. I thought I should interrupt you as your heart rate was speeding up and you know it can get dangerous. You have a heart condition, after all.” If Tony didn’t know better, he would say JARVIS sounded smug. But maybe it was just his British accent.

“Did I program you to be sassy to me?” He asked with a lopsided grin, proud of his creation on the inside, a warm feeling making its home in his tummy.

“Indeed, Sir.”

“God, you are something else, JAR,” Tony murmured affectionately and patted DUM-E, who had rolled up next to him with a soft beep and the need for attention. “Yes, you too, idiot.”

DUM-E beeped happily, reacting like an overeager puppy. JARVIS, thankfully, stayed silent.

“Okay!” Tony clapped his hands one time, standing up. “JARVIS, order exactly one plumeria to be delivered to one Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“Would you like to add a message, Sir?”

Tony pondered the question for a moment, before declining, “naah. He will know the meaning of the flower. I secretly think he might be a human Wikipedia, but who knows? Just attach a little card with my initials and my phone number, so he knows who it’s from and so he can get into contact, you know?” Then, after a second, he added, “and give me all the dirty things you’ve found on him.”

“Very well, Sir.” And with this JARVIS fell silent again and Tony walked over to another computer, JARVIS’ research already popping up on the screen, before plopping down into the comfortable seat before it. Now he would get down to business.

“Doctor, huh? Let’s see what kind of doctor you are, Strange,” he murmured, before delving into window after window of information about his new acquaintance.

Apparently there was only one Stephen Strange resident to New York City and from the pictures that sprung at Tony from various open windows, it was indeed his flower shop clerk. Even though he looked younger in most of the photos, not as much grey in his hair and—Tony shook his head in mock shock—no goatee. _Heresy!_

Clicking through JARVIS’ findings, Tony soon got tired of the repetitive articles from medical magazines. It was not that he wasn’t interested in the medical world (hell, SI contributed to it, after all), but he himself just didn’t have a lot of knowledge about it at all. But at least he could gather from them what kind of doctor that man was. Or had been? He _was_ working at a flower shop now and to Tony’s knowledge doctors didn’t get paid so badly that they needed to get a clerk job on top of their ungodly hours to pay for rent and all that daily stuff.

But back to topic. Dr. Stephen Strange was, apparently, a neurosurgeon. Tony let out a low whistle. And yes, he still was as JARVIS had found out that his medical licence hadn’t yet expired. And he was well-renowned, too! _The things you learn through a simple Google search_ , Tony thought amused. They had probably crossed paths before, at some gala or another.

He eventually got bored of all the medical mumbo-jumbo and clicked on a news article from two years ago that didn’t seem to have anything to do with medical research. Or medical anything. Hooked, he began to read.

 

 

> _**3** **rd** **February 2016, New York Times** —Yesterday evening Dr. Stephen Vincent Strange (40), renowned neurosurgeon at Metro General Hospital, suffered severe injuries in a car accident while he was on his way to a Neurological Society dinner. He was found several hours later and brought to Metro General Hospital and has been in surgery since. The hospital has given no statement as to his condition as of now._

 

 

Tony swallowed. Hard. And searched for more related news in JARVIS’ findings, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Not long after he stumbled across a few headlines in some smaller medical magazines.

 

 

> _**Dr. Strange Not Expected Back in the OP** _

 

 

> _**Dr. Strange’s Injuries Too Bad to Be Operating Again?** _

 

 

> _**Dr. Strange Fired** _

 

 

> _**Has Anybody Seen Dr. Strange?** _

 

 

> _**World-Renowned Neurosurgeon Vanished** _


	3. Yellow Chrysanthemum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright?” Stephen’s voice was soft and Tony finally looked up again.  
> His throat clogged up at how gentle Stephen’s eyes were, but he swallowed it down quickly, not giving in to his emotions. Damn, he felt like he was at MIT again, having his first crush on one of his professors. (She had been sweet with him—in hindsight it was probably because he had been young and a bit lost, until Rhodey had come along.) “Yeah, I’m good.” No, his voice wasn’t rough. Definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so deeply sorry for the long wait. I'm battling depression and it's utterly exhausting and at times impossible for me to write at all. This fic is kind of a bit of therapy for me to get back into writing again. So please bear with me when the updates are slow and the writing is sloppy or stiff at times. I'm trying my best.

Tony’s phone rang the next day and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t surprised. He had expected Strange to at least let him wait a few days, before he contacted Tony. Well, he wouldn’t complain. It would be nice to hear that deep, smooth voice again, caressing Tony’s ears like the finest silk.

Of course he hadn’t given Strange his private number, just one that a lot of other unimportant people also had. Not that these people saw themselves as unimportant, but they were—in Tony’s book. Nonetheless he needed to be able to be contacted and so he had made sure to have a number that he could change at any given time if he so desired. Maybe Strange would one day gain access to his private line that wasn’t managed by JARVIS.

“Accept call, JAR,” Tony ordered and turned to his TV, Strange’s confused face appearing on the screen.

“ _I didn’t intend to video call_ ,” was the first thing he said, instead of a greeting, and Tony grinned.

“I wanted to see your handsome face, Stranger, sue me. Or don’t. I would win a lawsuit anyway. And don’t ask how I did that thing with the video call,” Tony replied and internally preened when he saw Strange’s lips twitch into a hint of a smile. “So, why did you call?”

Strange rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but answered, “ _someone sent me a flower._ ”

“Care to elaborate?”

“ _No._ ”

Tony sighed dramatically and flopped down on the couch in front of the TV, an arm thrown over his eyes for effect. “You are no fun!” He complained loudly.

“ _Yes, I hear that a lot_ ,” came the dry reply and Tony grinned and peeked at the TV from under his arm. Strange seemed to wait for something, but then rolled his eyes and sighed in mock annoyance, much like Tony would have done in his shoes. “ _Fine. This morning someone delivered a single plumeria to the shop and said it was for me. There was no message attached to it, only your initials and a phone number_ ,” Strange elaborated in a bored tone as if he was reciting textbook chemistry.

Tony clapped his hands and sat up, making Strange flinch at the sound, which made him giggle inside. “Oh, and you deduced that it must be from that good-looking guy that visited your shop a few days ago and you decided to call him. Yes, I completely understand. Well done, Sherlock!”

A few seconds of silence followed his outburst, until Strange deadpanned, “ _I can’t remember any good-looking guys entering the shop._ ”

Tony’s mouth fell open and in a dramatic gesture he decided to grab onto his chest, right over his heart. “You wound me, Doc!”

Strange lifted one eyebrow. “ _Doc? Oh no, don’t tell me you googled me._ ” He sounded exasperated, his expression laced with pain, but quickly masked with indifference. For a second Tony felt a pang of guilt in his chest for being nosy. But honestly? He had had dated one too many wrong people to not be overly cautious.

He shrugged. “Well, no can do if you are Tony Stark. Needed to make sure that you are not some kind of serial killer or—Heaven forbid!—a _journalist_.” He said the last word with so much distaste that the corners of his mouth curled downwards into an ugly frown.

“ _That’s probably the last profession I would choose if I’m being honest_ ,” Strange replied after a moment of silence and—finally!—Tony was graced with a small smile, barely a lifting of the corners of the other’s mouth, but a smile nonetheless. It felt like Tony’s own, personal victory. “ _So, about that flower …?_ ”

Tony sighed. “Yes, I sent that one as you obviously know.” He rolled his eyes fondly and continued, “I thought I might as well play your little flower game. You have no idea how long I searched for the flower with the most fitting meaning. Which you know. Probably. It seems like you know the meaning of every flower out there. Well, whate—”

“ _You are rambling_ ,” Strange interrupted him, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Rude!” Tony proclaimed without missing a beat, pointing accusingly at Strange’s face on the screen. “But not wrong. What I try to do here, Stranger, is leading up to something. I mean, _you_ obviously started this something and I am interested enough to play your game. So I sent you a flower back, rolling the ball into your part of the playing field.”

“ _By sending me your number. Which I called_ ,” Strange replied immediately, rolling his eyes. Tony noticed they both did a lot of eye rolling, which couldn’t be healthy. “ _The ball is in your court again—if we want to keep using this overused metaphor._ ”

“Yes. Yes, we do,” Tony said and finally decided to sit up and face Strange like a decent human being. It wasn’t the first time he asked someone out, so this shouldn’t be too hard, should it? “So …”

“ _So …?_ ” Strange repeated with one raised eyebrow.

Tony swallowed. “Uhm … Yeah, I kinda wondered if you would like to go out with me. Just for dinner, no strings attached.”

“ _Says the playboy._ ”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. Was that guy really serious right now? “Hold up! _You_ snuck a flower into my pocket that had an obviously flirtatious meaning. And now you are honestly behaving like this? I can’t believe it. You know what? Delete my number, I’m not interested anymore.”

He didn’t even know why he was so angry about this. He knew the public still thought of him as a playboy, even though he had left those times behind ages ago. Really, he shouldn’t blame Strange, but his somehow, coming from him, it hurt.

Strange’s eyes widened, but that was the only reaction he got for a solid five seconds, before the man opened his mouth and Tony had expected anything, but not this. “ _I’m sorry, that was out of line_ ,” Strange said and Tony gaped, open mouthed, like a complete idiot. “ _I shouldn’t have said that and I didn’t mean it. I’m truly sorry._ ”

“Uhm …” Now, this was new. Tony had barely met anyone that made him speechless. Strange was definitely under the first ten people to be able to do so. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly tired. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Sorry for that. It’s just … It seems that the public didn’t catch on, yet, that my playboy days are way in the past. Have been for years. So, please don’t judge me because of this old stuff, yeah? I meant it. I want to take you out for dinner, nothing more. I would just ask you to let me choose the restaurant.”

“ _Nothing too fancy, please. I can’t really afford_ _a suit that matches your lifestyle anymore._ ”

Tony could see how much it pained the man to admit this, so he decided not to make a big deal out of it. Or any deal at all, really. “You got it. Just dress casual, I promise it won’t be too fancy. Not a fan of that myself if I’m honest, but everyone expects me to love it.”

And isn’t it weird that he couldn’t even admit this to his closest friends, but here he sat, facing this near stranger and spilling it all? Strange had a weird influence on him and Tony couldn’t deny that he liked it. Very much so.

Strange smiled and maybe Tony imagined it, but it looked a bit relieved. “ _I appreciate it, thank you. And thank you for the invitation._ ”

“Don’t thank me yet, Doc,” Tony said and waved the thanks away. “It could all go horribly wrong, but we will see when we get there. When are you free?”

“ _Friday at seven would work for me._ ”

“Great. Would you like to meet at the restaurant or shall I pick you up like a true gentleman?” Tony inquired with a wink and somehow this didn’t feel like he played it, like all the times before. No, this came naturally and he quite liked it.

Strange seemed to think about this for a few seconds and said, “ _Give me the address and I will meet you there. I’m not a fan of giving my address to strangers._ ”

“Fair enough,” Tony replied with a shrug and gave him the address of the restaurant he had in mind, waiting patiently, until Strange had written it down. The man’s hands trembled horribly, but Tony didn’t mention it, not even looking at them. Not that he didn’t notice the angry scars, standing out brightly against Strange’s pale skin. Tony wondered if these scars came from his accident and if they were the reason he couldn’t practice anymore. But even Tony had enough tact not to ask.

“ _Okay, I will see you there. Friday at seven. I’m looking forward to it._ ” And there was this smile again and Tony couldn’t help it, but smile back.

“Yeah, Stranger, see you.”

The call ended. And Tony let out a deep breath.

  


  


* * *

 

 

  


The closer it got to Friday, the more nervous Tony became—and he didn’t even know why. It was driving him insane. He felt like a school-girl with her first crush and he _really_ hated this comparison. He was forty-eight years old, for Christ’s sake! He didn’t do crushes and he had never been nervous because of a date before since his MIT days! What was different this time?

_Maybe it’s because this time you really like your companion_ , a little voice whispered in his head and Tony rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Yes, Strange was definitely not comparable to his usual dates and that was a _good_ thing. From what Tony had gathered, he could actually hold an intelligent conversation with the man, not to mention the witty banter that he would enjoy terrifically.

It would be a good evening, he was sure of it. So why was he nervous?

Tony sighed and rubbed both hands over his face, fingers catching on his tired eyes. Due to his nervousness he had worked too much again. The last night had been spent in his workshop and if Pepper found out about this, he would be dead. He had promised her not to overwork himself again, but it was his coping mechanism. Not that it was a good one, Tony never said that. It was a terrible coping mechanism and he would fight tooth and nail if any of his friend’s would cope with their issues the way he did.

He sighed again and got up from the couch he was sitting on, placing the tablet he had been working on about ten minutes ago on the table in front of him. It was time to get ready for his date. He had about two hours to take a shower, decide what to wear and to get to the restaurant. Should work. He didn’t want to run late and he didn’t want to have to rush there.

So Tony did like he had planned and made his way over to his private bathroom, slipping out of his clothes on his way there, not caring where he dropped them on the floor. Someone would pick them up and wash them, that’s what he paid his employees for, after all.

He liked taking his time in the bathroom and had no problem admitting to it. If anyone asked, yes, he liked long, very hot, nearly scalding showers, liked scented shampoo and wash lotion. He liked taking care of his appearance and took an immeasurable amount of time to style his hair whenever he wanted to. If anyone judged him for it, they could, he didn’t care, never had.

And so he jumped into the shower, pushed it to the hottest setting he could tolerate, and immediately felt his muscles relax under the forceful jet of water. He hadn’t even realised the tension occupying his body, too caught up in his date this evening and his rapidly growing anxiety about it. (Who was he kidding? His anxiety had already reached its peak and he hated it.)

After scrubbing himself down, cleaning everything thoroughly—who knew how the evening would end?—he got out of the shower and rubbed himself dry with one of the soft, warm towels hanging over the towel heater. Tony was very proud of this purchase and couldn’t have invested in anything better for his bathroom. Warm towels were the best thing after a shower or bath.

Now, what to wear? He wanted to go for casual, but not too casual as he wanted to impress Strange at least a bit. And that man seemed like a hard nut to crack if Tony was honest with himself. Strange didn’t seem perturbed at all when Tony had entered the flower shop, there had been nothing indicating that the man had been as star struck as most people upon meeting him.

In the end Tony went for a cat tee-shirt with a suit jacket and the appropriate slacks, throwing them on in a few minutes, taking his time a bit, so they wouldn’t crinkle. He looked himself over in the ceiling to floor mirror, admiring his clothing choice.

“Look at that, I clean up nicely,” he said to his reflection, turning left and right. He was especially proud of how snugly his trousers hugged his behind and took a minute to check himself out. “Damn, I would totally take me home tonight. I look like a right snack.”

Yes, maybe it were his nerves speaking, but nobody had to know.

He still had some time to spare, but nervousness took over again and so he found himself in the back of one of his favourite cars about ten minutes later.Happy had begrudgingly taken his place behind the wheel, stirring the car skilfully through the traffic, thick with evening rush hour.

“Boss, we are going to be late with this traffic.” Happy’s grumpy face appeared in the rear-view mirror, looking at Tony questioningly.

But Tony only shook his head. “No, we were disgustingly early anyway. We won’t be late, still have half an hour, until Strange and I meet,” he reassured Happy, who looked relieved and fixed his eyes on the far too full streets again, waiting for a traffic light to turn green.

Funnily enough it took them exactly thirty minutes to arrive at the address Tony had given Strange and so Tony jumped out of the car in a rush, telling Happy he would call him if he wanted to get picked up. He was slightly out of breath when he stopped at the door to the restaurant he had chosen—that was exactly what he had wanted to prevent by getting ready far too early. Well, at least he wasn’t too late.

And again he wondered why it even mattered. It never had before.

He snorted and walked into the restaurant, nodding to the staff behind the counter as his eyes swept over the place, finally landing on his date. His lips twitched into a smile and he walked over, sliding into the booth, so he was sitting opposite from Strange.

“Hello, Stranger,” he greeted and winked.

A raised eyebrow was the reaction he got and he smirked. “Stark,” Strange greeted back and Tony should really contemplate calling the man by his first name in his head. They had a date after all. “You are late.”

“Yeah, traffic was a bitch. And it’s Tony.”

“Stephen.”

“Neat. And sorry, I really tried to be on time.” Yes, that was an apology. Contrary to popular belief, Tony was capable of apologising if he was in the wrong.

Strange nodded and a slight smile graced his face. “You are forgiven. And now tell me—a burger joint? Really?”

Tony returned the smile wholeheartedly. “Well, I would call it a good old-fashioned American Diner,” he replied.

Yes, it might be a weird choice for him to have a date at such a ridiculous location, but he had really thought about where to take Stephen. First of all, Tony wasn’t snobby with food. He liked a good burger as much as the next guy and so this wasn’t the worst choice for getting food at all. Second, he had had Stephen’s hands in mind. Chop sticks would have probably been a no-go and it didn’t look like cutlery would be comfortable to hold with these trembling fingers, either. And who knew? Maybe they still hurt from the accident. Tony was sure the accident was responsible for the scars and the tremors wrecking Stephen’s hands.

So burgers it was. You could comfortably eat them with your fingers and nobody would look at you funny if you dropped anything.

But Tony wouldn’t tell Stephen that. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and feel like Tony was catering to all his needs. Tony was just thoughtful. Indeed he was thoughtful of others most of the time.

Stephen’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. “Whatever you want to call it, it’s unusual.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m an unusual guy.”

“That you are. I would still like to know why here. I would have pegged you for someone who only frequents high-end restaurants.” And damn, those eyes could probably look into your very soul. Tony felt scanned, entranced by the shifting colours and their calculating stare. As if Stephen knew his deepest and darkest secrets.

“It’s good food. Tasty,” he managed to reply, after he had cleared his throat, ripping his eyes away from Stephen’s.

“That’s as good an answer as any,” Stephen replied with a shrug and Tony heaved a silent sigh of relief.

When he had himself under control again, he plastered on his trademark smile, catching Stephen’s eye again. And Stephen didn’t seem to mind, mimicking his smile and cocking his head the slightest bit, indicating that he was listening to anything Tony had to say. And Tony made use of it, the question burning on his tongue, “so, Doc, tell me: Do you have another flower for me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to play it down to some funny game. But deep down Tony was really, honestly curious. He wanted to know if Stephen would keep up the trading of flowers and he wanted to know even more which one the other would pick for him this time.

The smirk on Stephen’s face was answer enough, but then the man reached for his jacket, taking a yellow flower out of his pocket. With a smooth motion he held it out for Tony and without thinking Tony grabbed it, holding it carefully. It looked like a very big dandelion, but something told him that this was a different flower. He looked at Stephen, confusion and the lack of knowledge clearly visible on his face.

“It’s a chrysanthemum,” Stephen said as way of explanation. It didn’t help Tony at all. He kept staring, a bit at a loss, but still utterly touched that Stephen indeed intended to keep this going. Stephen seemed to catch on and smiled indulgently, reaching out to touch Tony’s hands that were still gently cradling the flower. But he stopped before he reached them and looked at Tony as if waiting for permission.

_Oh_ , Tony thought. Maybe that was exactly what Stephen was doing. Waiting for permission. A weird feeling washed over Tony, made him shudder and wonder why he was suddenly feeling so emotional—like he might cry any minute. But instead of giving in to the sensation, he gave the tiniest of nods. Stephen caught on immediately, closing his hands around Tony’s after a second of hesitation. Maybe he had seen something in Tony’s eyes that had made him hesitate. Tony didn’t know.

But what he knew was, that Stephen’s hands felt incredible around his. They were warm and a bit larger than his own, their trembling transferring to Tony’s own. But he didn’t mind. It belonged to these other hands, was a part of them, and that was okay. His eyes were fixed on their joined hands, his mind marvelling at how utterly _good_ it felt, how utterly _right_ and _comforting_. He had to suppress a sudden shudder.

“Alright?” Stephen’s voice was soft and Tony finally looked up again.

His throat clogged up at how gentle Stephen’s eyes were, but he swallowed it down quickly, not giving in to his emotions. Damn, he felt like he was at MIT again, having his first crush on one of his professors. (She had been sweet with him—in hindsight it was probably because he had been young and a bit lost, until Rhodey had come along.) “Yeah, I’m good.” No, his voice wasn’t rough. Definitely not.

“Good.” Stephen smiled and let go, albeit reluctantly so, and Tony could finally breathe freely again. His heart was thumping in his chest like it wanted to escape and it took him a lot of willpower to slow it down.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed and licked his lips, “good.” He took a deep breath, eyeing the flower. No note attached this time. He either had to ask what the flower meant or he had to wait until he was home to google it. Knowing himself he wouldn’t be patient enough for the latter, so he looked straight at Stephen, when he had himself under control again, and asked, “so, gonna tell me the meaning of this beauty or do I have to guess?” He was proud that his voice didn’t sound breathy and hoarse anymore and was as steady as it could be.

“Oh, it would definitely be entertaining to let you guess, but I think I will show some mercy tonight.” And with that Stephen leant forward, bracing himself on his arms, his face so close to Tony’s that breathing got hard again and his heart stammered in his chest. And then Stephen spoke into his ear, more breath than voice, “it means _precious one_ and it fits you perfectly. Don’t think I don’t know why you chose this of all places to have dinner with me.”

Tony was speechless. And very much blushing.


	4. Red and Yellow Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a bit of silence between them, before Stephen’s expression became mischievous. “You strike me like more of a Corgi if I’m honest.”
> 
> Tony gasped in mock hurt, his free hand flying to cover his heart. “Now, that’s not nice, Mr. Flower Wizard! Why would you say something like this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love and thanks go to [CookieCloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCloud/profile) for betaing! Thank you so much, Kira! <3

Talking to Stephen was—nice. Actually, honest to god, nice. It felt so natural and easy and Tony could say that he had a good time. Stephen was interesting, he could match Tony’s intellect and it made him relax. Tony didn’t often have people who could keep up with him intellectually, the last person being Bruce. But Bruce wasn’t here and if Tony was honest with himself, he didn’t want to date him. Their friendship was too precious to ruin it like that. (And Tony knew he would ruin it, he ruined everything with an ease that was uncanny.)

He listened to Stephen talk, chimed in with his own experiences and even dared to consider asking him about his days as a doctor. But maybe that was too intimate for their first date. And yes, Tony was already thinking about a second date. And a third. He could see himself going on a lot of dates with this man.

“I can see the cogs turning in your head. What are you thinking about?” Stephen suddenly asked and Tony jerked out of his musings regarding more dates and how they would go, what they would do. Maybe a movie? Another dinner? Walking in the park? He could show Stephen his lab—that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Nevermind that only five people other than Tony had access to his private lab. “Tony? Are you with me?”

“Sorry, Doc,” Tony replied sheepishly, grinning away his embarrassing thought process, before Stephen could even try to guess where his mind had drifted off to. “What was your question? I spaced out there for a moment. But not because you are boring! Damn, you are anything but boring! And maybe I should stop talking right now, before I make even more of an idiot out of myself.”

Stephen smirked and it suited him so well that Tony’s stomach did a little somersault. He just hoped he wasn’t blushing. He couldn’t afford to get flustered now. But Stephen spoke, before Tony could drift off into other dimensions again, “I asked what you were thinking about. It seems to be rather captivating, seeing that you seem to be driven to go back to said thoughts.” His smirk grew and lit up his eyes, which shone a beautiful green-blue under the fluorescent light of the burger joint. It was fascinating how this light didn’t bring out any sharpness, regarding its own harsh nature, but made them really soft.

But soon enough Tony had to get back to the question, thinking rapidly to come up with a satisfying answer that wouldn’t involve how much he wanted to spend quality time with the man in front of him in the coming weeks. “I was thinking about taking you out for a walk through the park,” he said, the only thing coming to mind right now. He gestured to their empty plates and their nearly empty glasses, hoping that Stephen would get his drift. It was nice sitting here and talking about their lives, getting to know each other, but he itched to get moving again. Sitting still wasn’t anything Tony was used to.

Stephen smiled, nodding. “I would like that. I like your company, Tony.”

And if that smile and those words didn’t get right through Tony’s hard-earned outer shell, then nothing would. He suppressed a shiver and stood up, murmuring about paying, before heading to the counter, where he tipped their waitress generously, charming smile again in place.

When he came back to their booth, Stephen had already shrugged on his jacket, holding Tony’s out for him to slip into. It was oddly charming and Tony felt a slight heat creeping up his neck as he took the other up on his offer, slipping his arms into the sleeves, before adjusting the jacket around his shoulders. He shot a grateful smile over to Stephen, who returned it, his head tilted a bit to the side. The sight was endearing and this was only amplified by the barely visible blush dusting Stephen’s cheeks.

They stepped out onto the busy street, lights from the shops and cars making the night bright like day. It was still February, so it was getting dark rather early and the air was chilling to the bone. Of course Tony only had his suit jacket and of course he hadn’t thought about taking anything warmer with him. He hadn’t even thought they would go for a walk, but here they were, standing rather close to each other, Stephen smiling down on him. And somehow this smile was all it took to make Tony feel all warm inside and out. He smiled back.

“Let’s go, Stranger! I know there is a small park nearby and I would like to take a leisurely stroll. You up for it?” He waggled his eyebrows and his mouth split into a wide grin. It all felt so natural.

Stephen chuckled and cocked his head. “A ‘leisurely stroll’? Really?” He asked, amusement lacing his voice as he started to walk, Tony falling into step next to him. He was acutely aware of how their arms brushed against each other with each step. It was great.

“Yes. Let me try out my poetic speech or whatever it’s called,” he replied, his tone snarky, but with a hint of a laugh, softening the blow.

“Whatever you want to call it, it was unexpected,” Stephen said, before they crossed the street, still close to each other.

Tony wouldn’t mind a few more hours like this. Each time Stephen’s arm brushed against his own, it felt like little electric shocks were running through his body, keeping him on high alert. But it was a good feeling, grounding and oh so real. It made him want to grab Stephen’s hand and hold it securely in his own, his thumb brushing over those trembling fingers, feeling their shaking against his skin, relishing in the warmth they would bring. But he didn’t dare act on his desires. Not yet.

“Is this the park you meant?” Stephen’s voice dragged him, once again, out of his musings, out of his mind.

“Yeah, I guess,” he answered and the two of them entered the little park together.

Lush green surrounded them as soon as they went a few steps in, leaves and grass dark due to the late hour and the lack of sun. Only a few lamps lit the path they were following at a slow pace, comfortable in each other’s company. It was truly beautiful, even though the flowers didn’t bloom yet and the trees were just regaining their leaves. But the bare branches had something mysterious about them, rustling in the light wind that had picked up a few minutes ago.

They kept silent, listening to the small noises around them, birds and other small animals were scuttling around, people were talking in the distance, the noise of the traffic mostly muffled by the surrounding trees and bushes. It was—calm. Tony liked it.

He hadn’t known how much he needed some quiet, until he witnessed it, until it engulfed him and made him relax. He hadn’t realised how taut he had been, even during his date with Stephen. Now the last bit of tension, that had been reduced steadily as the evening went on, fell off of him, making his shoulders slump and his fingers twitch.

Yes, he could get used to this. He really could. A small smile graced his face and he looked at Stephen, who was content with the silence between them, silently humming a familiar song under his breath. The light from the lamps illuminated his profile, his sharp cheekbones, his smooth hair. He truly was handsome and Tony couldn’t blame himself for his little crush on the man.

He really didn’t want to break the silence, but he needed Stephen to look at him, needed to see his fascinating eyes, needed his attention like air. It was maddening and Tony couldn’t recall if he had ever felt like this before. Probably not. Stephen was … he was something else. Special. It made Tony’s throat dry and his hands sweaty—and that was really something that didn’t happen often.

At first he wanted to ask Stephen which song he was humming, the familiarity driving Tony insane, because he couldn’t place the song. But he decided against it the moment Stephen turned to him, looking at him with an intensity that made Tony go weak in the knees. How could someone make his legs feel like jelly with just one look? It was unfair. Simply unfair.

Tony liked it. Very much.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely louder than a breath, his throat working overtime, swallowing relentlessly. Why was he so nervous? How did Stephen Strange manage to reduce him to a stammering, blushing mess? Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Tony really felt out of his depth here. Stephen did this to him.

Stephen kept looking at him, his eyes locked on Tony’s, and he didn’t say a word. It was as if he was taking Tony in, looking into his very soul. And maybe he was. Maybe he had realised what kind of a man Tony was—a selfish billionaire, a rich brat, a spoiled manchild. Someone you didn’t want a relationship with. Someone you kept around for the money and the benefits of having someone as a … friend … who was famous, who could open every door for you.

Yeah, maybe Stephen had realised that Tony was nothing special, that he wasn’t worth the trouble. Or maybe he had thought about what would happen if he _did_ pursue a relationship with a celebrity. What it would mean for his own life. Privacy wouldn’t be a thing anymore.

“Hey.” Stephen’s voice grounded him once again and Tony was grateful for this. Nobody else had it this easy to get him out of his thoughts, but Stephen managed to do that with just one word. One word as small as _hey_. “What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?”

And Tony was _tempted_. He was really tempted to just tell Stephen what he had been thinking about, about his insecurities and that he thought that Stephen would find out soon enough that Tony just wasn’t worth the trouble. God, did he wish to just say it. And maybe he could. It wouldn’t be too hard to get it out in a joking manner, right? He could laugh it off, because it was so _stupid_. And it was, wasn’t it?

“Tony, you are spacing out on me again.” And now concern crept onto Stephen’s face and Tony didn’t like it.

“Sorry, Doc, nothing to do with you. See, this?” He gestured between the two of them, transforming the concern into confusion, before speaking again, “I usually don’t do this. I wine and dine them, then I take them home. Well, I used to. I didn’t do anything like that in the last ten years. But I’m really not used to _this_. This whole comfortable-date-schtick. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I enjoy the hell out of this evening, because you are great company. You are smart, and witty, and exchanging banter with you has made me laugh more than I would have thought. I’m just not used to—”

“Tony, stop,” Stephen interrupted him. Did he really do that? Tony frowned, but kept his mouth shut, waiting for Stephen to continue. “You are rambling. And you are obviously insecure—”

“I am no—”

“Tony!” Tony shut his mouth with an audible _click_. Stephen sighed and looked at the ground and Tony already missed the look of those stunning eyes on him. As if Stephen had heard his thoughts, he looked up again, the frown on his face immediately smoothing out, making room for a smile. He reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand.

Tony’s breath got caught in his throat, his eyes went wide, his mouth opened slightly. _Oh_ , he thought, _this feels nice._ And it did. Stephen’s hands were big and warm and Tony didn’t care about the tremble in them. They were smooth against his own skin.

But Stephen didn’t seem focused on their hands (and why would he? They had held hands in the restaurant and it had been nice back then—but this felt more _intimate_ ). Instead he kept looking at Tony—again—and opened his mouth, “it’s alright. I enjoyed this evening as well, you are really amazing. I had a lot of fun as cliché as it sounds, but it’s true. And I think we should finish it up now. It’s getting colder by the minute and I can see you shivering. Come, we will go back, okay?”

Tony felt himself nod. Because, yes, he was cold. And yes, it had been a really nice evening. But he really didn’t want it to end. But if he kept Stephen now, the man maybe wouldn’t want to go on another date with him, and so Tony let himself get dragged along by Stephen, their fingers intertwined, their shoulders brushing. Tony could get used to this.

He didn’t know how much time they’d spend in the park, but the streets were still busy—which was really no surprise, considering they were in New York—and people were passing them left and right. Not as many as in broad daylight, but still a significant amount. And Tony still let himself be led by Stephen, who seemed to know exactly where he was going. Which Tony didn’t mind if he was honest with himself. He could always call Happy to wherever he was and his faithful bodyguard slash driver would pick him up, no questions asked. Okay, maybe some questions as Happy was also his friend and permanently worried about him, but Tony could live with that. It was nice to have people worry about you.

“Where are we going?” Only because he didn’t mind, didn’t mean he wasn’t curious where their journey would take them.

“You will see,” Stephen answered, a slight smirk on his lips.

Tony huffed. “That doesn’t quench my curiosity, Stephanie.”

That drew Stephen to a sudden stop, making Tony stumble slightly, but he caught himself fast enough. When he looked at Stephen, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the glowering expression on the other’s face. “I can live with _Stranger_ , but don’t call me _Stephanie_.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony conceded, but kept the smirk on his face as he somehow found his confidence again. He got Stephen to step closer with a gentle tug of his hand, both men now standing nearly chest to chest, so Tony had to look up to capture the other’s eyes. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. But it suits you, you know?” He said low enough only Stephen should be able to hear him.

He was met with a soft smile, one that smoothed out all the lines on Stephen’s face, made him look younger, despite the grey on his temples. “I don’t like the name. I was teased with it at school and the negative connotation stuck with me.”

Okay, Tony could get behind that. “Okay, won’t do it then, Doc. Now, keep kidnapping me to wherever your heart desires. I think you had something in mind where you wanted to go?”

Stephen nodded and with that he brought a bit more distance between them, before he started walking again. Tony noticed that they were still holding hands and it filled him with warmth.

He kept following Stephen for about two more blocks until they stopped. Right in front of a flower shop. Tony raised one eyebrow. “Really, Doc? You take me to a flower shop and it’s not even the one you work at?”

But Stephen just rolled his eyes, amusement filling his features, and ordered him to stay outside for a few minutes. “I’ll be right back, don’t you dare move.”

And that was something Tony hadn’t expected. Taking orders wasn’t really his thing—well, not outside the bedroom, really. He didn’t do well with following them, rather doing what he wanted. But he could indulge Stephen, granted it really wouldn’t take long for him to come back and surprise Tony with more flowers. Because, surely, that’s what this would be, right? More flowers. What else could it be if Stephen wanted to go to a flower shop of all places?

He didn’t have to wait for long. True to his word Stephen stepped out of the shop about five minutes later. Five very _cold_ minutes if you asked Tony. But he wasn’t mad for long, his eyes darting to the colourful roses, clutched in trembling hands. And he kept staring at them as Stephen came closer.

“It should be my turn to give you meaningful flowers,” Tony joked weakly. Oh god, he knew what the roses meant. _Oh god._

“Yes, but I really wanted to, you know?” Stephen said softly. He pushed the yellow and red roses into Tony’s direction, staring at the ground bashfully. And was that a blush on his cheeks? It could very well be from the cold, but Tony liked to imagine it was because Stephen was excited and nervous. It was a good look on him, endearing.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, Tony took the flowers into his own hands, brushing Stephen’s shortly. And it was still exhilarating to be able to touch him this casually. “Thank you,” he said, smiling and hoping Stephen would look up, so he could see these expressive eyes again. Damn, Tony had a thing for the man’s eyes. And for his hands. He could hold them all day, while staring into Stephen’s eyes.

He was quite excited, when Stephen decided to indeed grace him with looking at him again. “Do you want me to tell you what they mean?” He sounded quite shy and Tony had the sudden urge to wrap him in a blanket and hold him. And wasn’t that peculiar? Tony had never had these kinds of feelings before. It was exciting and also a bit scary. He simply wasn’t used to this. He would like to get used to this. With Stephen’s help.

“No,” he said and took a step closer, “I know what they mean. _Joy_ , _happiness_ and _excitement_. I considered giving them to you before, but it ended up being the plumeria.” He felt he needed to add this explanation as Stephen’s face was one of confusion. But it slowly morphed into the gentlest of smiles.

“Did you now, huh?”

“Yeah, but I thought it made me sound like an overeager Golden Retriever,” he snorted, his eyes now locked on the flowers, his fingers fiddling with the stems, careful not to break them.

A hand landed on his upper arm and he decided to look at Stephen’s face again, pleased with the touch. It sent warmth through his body, making him feel all hot, comfortable with the other’s presence. There was a bit of silence between them, before Stephen’s expression became mischievous. “You strike me like more of a Corgi if I’m honest.”

Tony gasped in mock hurt, his free hand flying to cover his heart. “Now, that’s not nice, Mr. Flower Wizard! Why would you say something like this?”

Stephen laughed—and, damn, did he have a nice laugh! Deep and rumbling and full of mirth. “Isn’t it obvious? You are small and excitable. When you talk about your inventions, about your tech, about your little robot friends, you are vibrating with positive energy. You’re just a tiny bundle of joy.”

“Okay, first of all: no,” Tony deadpanned and that made Stephen laugh even more, leaning into Tony’s space while he tried to catch his breath. Tony wouldn’t mind if they stayed this close together for a little while longer. But he still had to defend his honour, so he added, “and second of all: if I’m a Corgi, you are an Afghan hound.”

That, apparently, shut Stephen up. At least for a few seconds. “Excuse me?” Incredulity laced his voice and Tony smirked.

 _Gotcha_ , he thought. “Well, you are tall and lanky and you have beautiful hair,” he explained, only semi-serious, as he reached up and played with the lock that hung half over Stephen’s forehead. He had expected it to feel sticky with products, but it was really soft and Tony found that he didn’t want to stop touching it. He had to, though, at one point. But he filed Stephen’s dazed expression away for later.

Stephen swallowed. “I’ll have you know I’m not _lanky_. It’s called _lean_ ,” he managed to say, but his voice sounded hoarse, his eyes holding a heat that made Tony feel dizzy, made him want to grab the other man and kiss him senseless. And it took all of his willpower to not act on his desires right now.

“Okay, Mr. Lean,” he said, his throat feeling tight, roses forgotten in his hand. He cleared his throat. “But you didn’t object to the hair part.”

“No, I didn’t.” And it felt like Stephen was stepping even closer, their chests now nearly touching, their breaths mingling. It would be so easy to just lean up and press their lips together. Tony wanted to kiss him so badly, wanted to indulge in the moment, wanted to take what he deemed rightfully his.

But Stephen seemed to have other plans as his hand came up to cup Tony’s cheek. The gesture was so intimate, yet so welcome and Tony felt himself sigh and lean into the touch, the very cliché of every romance novel. But, damn, did it feel good.

In this moment the cold was forgotten and only Stephen’s tender touch remained, making him feel calm, but also eliciting butterflies in his tummy, his whole body tingling with anticipation. And when Stephen finally spoke again, it felt like velvet caressing Tony’s ears, making his heart beat faster and his breath catch in his throat. “May I kiss you, Anthony?”

And, oh god, the sound that escaped him was embarrassing. Tony had never thought he would react like this to someone calling him _Anthony_ , but here he was, basically melting against Stephen, his knees weak. It was astounding that he managed to get out a breathless, “yes, please.”

Stephen didn’t waste any time, his eyes flaring with a heat that made Tony feel all the butterflies in his tummy flapping their wings at once, as he grabbed Tony’s face in both scarred hands and pressed their lips together. And, dear god, Tony has been kissed before, has had good and bad kisses, passionate ones, soft ones, but this? This was on a whole other level. And he now really thought he was in a very cliché romance novel, but he couldn’t care less as he let himself be swept away by the kiss, Stephen’s lips pressing confidently against his. His lips were slightly chapped, but warm, the graze a bit rough, but, oh, did Tony like this. He responded in kind, his eyelids slipping shut as he grabbed onto Stephen’s upper arms to steady himself.

He really regretted it when they parted again. If Tony was honest with himself, he had hoped the kiss would involve tongue, but it didn’t get that far. It had been amazing nonetheless and he felt a bit breathless and light-headed, leaning against Stephen, who looked as dazed as Tony felt.

Stephen’s tongue darted out and he wet his lips, before he spoke, “I really enjoyed this evening, Tony. I would like to do it again.”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed in answer. Then, more confident, “yes, I would like that, too.”


	5. Viscaria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen’s hands weren’t idle either, brushing over Tony’s sides, tickling him unintentionally, making him squirm, before they snuck under his shirt, ghosting over his skin. Tony shuddered as trembling fingers mapped his tummy and sides, following the contours of his ribs. And when Stephen’s erection brushed against his own, he couldn’t suppress a moan anymore, loud and unabashed, open mouthed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, my chapters are getting longer and longer. Me likes! Here, have 4,500 words of fluffy goodness!
> 
> Big thanks to [Codee21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codee21/profile) for being an awesome beta!  
> Another big thanks to [Izanami01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izanami01/profile) for the song used in this chapter!

Tony was nervous. Hell, was he nervous. He had been pacing in his living-room for the best part of the last hour, not knowing what to do. Why had he thought inviting Stephen over to dinner—and later to dance if all went well, the viscaria safely tucked away in a vase in the kitchen—into his home would be a good idea? It wasn’t, because his nerves were going haywire, making his stomach churn and his hands sweaty. Which was _not_ normal. At least not for Tony, who was usually suave and charming whenever faced with a date.

At least he’d already had his personal cook prepare a three-course meal, while he himself had been wearing a hole into his floor, that would be easy enough to eat with Stephen’s damaged hands. Tony had made it very clear that they needed something that wouldn’t warrant the use of much cutlery or, god forbid, chopsticks. Luckily his cook was a clever one and magicked up something delicious, even with this limiting demands.

Now all Tony needed to do was change into some nice clothes in the next ten minutes if he didn’t want to spend the evening with Stephen in his sweatpants and some old band tee. He found that he wanted to look _nice_ for the man, but not over the top as they would stay in his penthouse in the tower instead of going out. So some nice, black slacks and an anthracite button-up were put on and Tony had barely time to admire himself in his floor-to-ceiling mirror, before JARVIS announced Stephen’s arrival.

When Stephen stepped into the penthouse, right out of the elevator, Tony’s breath got caught in his throat. Stephen looked—and he couldn’t find another word for it— _dashing_. Black slacks that hugged his long legs (and admirable ass) tightly, combined with a burgundy button-up and an also black jacket. It was drool-worthy.

“Hey, Stranger,” Tony smiled, after looking Stephen up and down, his eyes lingering on the straining buttons on the man’s torso as he took off his jacket. Tony swept in and took it from him immediately, hanging it up, before returning to Stephen’s side.

“Hello yourself,” Stephen replied easily and Tony could feel the burning sensation of Stephen’s gaze all over his body. He seemed to approve, as his eyes settled on Tony’s soon enough.

Tony forced a smirk onto his face, trying to hide his preening at the unspoken praise. “Like what you see?” His voice was just cocky enough to be teasing as he nudged Stephen gently with his elbow, showing him to the dining-room.

Stephen, apparently, didn’t deem it necessary to answer him with words. No, instead he rolled his eyes, but followed Tony obediently.

Soon they were seated and their dinner was served. Tony was still nervous, but he had been standing in front of cameras his whole life. He knew how to hide his emotions. If you asked Rhodey, Tony was a better actor than all of Hollywood’s finest combined. Not that he was particularly proud of it, but it certainly helped now to keep his nervousness hidden from the gorgeous man sitting in front of him.

“So,” Stephen said and lifted one eyebrow, before he took a sip from the wine they had been served. Tony was sure his cook had made an excellent choice. The man had been working for him for over fifteen years now and Tony knew he was more than capable.

“So,” he echoed and mimicked Stephen in tasting the wine. It was, indeed, the perfect choice. Fruity, but not overly so. And Tony didn’t say this easily, being more of a whiskey kind of guy and not overly fond of sweet tasting alcohol.

Stephen smirked. “Usually you are babbling non-stop. Cat got your tongue?”

Tony snorted a laugh at that. “No, I just wanted to try this thing … what’s it called? Being polite or something like that, I think,” he replied with a wink, not missing a beat.

It already felt like the other evening, throwing banter back and forth, hidden smirks and obvious flirting. Stephen looked like he was enjoying himself and that’s all Tony needed as encouragement to rope him deeper and deeper into the conversation.

He had to admit, he had hoped for another kiss as soon as Stephen had arrived, but he was also aware that it may be a bit fast. Of course Tony Stark wasn’t known to take things slowly. The gossip press loved to paint him as a playboy, taking his dates to bed immediately, fucking them senseless and disregarding them the next day. None of that was really _true_ , though. When he had been younger, he had tended to jump into bed with the first person who had been willing, but he had always been considerate and had never kicked them out come next morning. They had always got a nice breakfast and Pepper had their clothes cleaned and pressed.

“What’s on your mind?” Stephen inquired and Tony slowly emerged from his past, plastering on an easy smile. Apparently that didn’t fool Stephen, who furrowed his eyebrow. “Is it something I said?”

That made Tony shake his head immediately. “Gods, no! Sorry, I zoned out a bit there. Not because you are boring—you are everything but! But because my mind is running a mile a minute and going to places I don’t like. I have to confess I’m quite a bit nervous, too, that’s why I keep drifting off.” And out in the open it was. What was he thinking? Well, apparently he wasn’t thinking at all.

Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. “ _The_ Tony Stark is nervous? That’s something I never thought I’d hear.” He smirked, but it wasn’t menacing, more teasing, and Tony felt at ease.

He shrugged, bashfully avoiding eye contact. “What can I say? It happens,” he said and suddenly found his food very interesting. It was a good sign that Stephen didn’t make fun of him if he was honest with himself. A soft quip and that was it. Grateful he looked up again and smiled at Stephen, getting a gentle smile in return that made Stephen’s eye crinkle at the edges, sending warmth to the pit of Tony’s stomach.

“No need to be nervous. I liked our last date and this one is shaping up to be nice as well. The food is very good and the wine tastes divine if I may say so.”

“You may,” Tony replied and felt his nerves ease up.

They didn’t exchange many more words while they ate, bathing in the other’s presence, throwing a smile at each other now and again. Tony felt content. It had to be good if you could enjoy a meal in silence with someone without it getting awkward, he thought, and wondered if couples did this all the time.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Stephen suddenly said, his plate empty, his wine glass refilled for the second time. A light blush was colouring his cheeks, making him look more lively, his eyes twinkling. Maybe he was a bit tipsy.

Tony himself was on his second glass of wine. He took a sip to stall, but then decided to be honest, “I enjoy this. Not needing to talk, I mean. I talk all the time, but it’s nice to eat in comfortable silence. Didn’t know I would enjoy it this much.”

Before Stephen could reply, their dessert came—chocolate mousse. Easy enough to eat with a spoon, but could be made to look and taste quite fancy. In this case it was decorated with fresh strawberries and cream. Tony loved it and he hoped Stephen would like it as well.

They thanked the cook and as soon as he went back to the kitchen, Stephen spoke, “I enjoy this as well.” Tony looked at him and they locked eyes, Stephen’s easy smile warming Tony once again. “This is wonderful, Tony, easily one of the best dinners I’ve ever had. And it was all very delicious.”

“Remind me to tell that to my lovely cook,” Tony said with a wink and began to eat. Wow, he really ought to raise the guy’s pay, this was the best chocolate mousse he had ever tasted.

“Will do.” And with that Stephen took his own first spoon of their dessert. Tony only realised that he watched him closely, when Stephen looked him straight in the eyes and lifted one eyebrow. “Anything the matter?”

Tony shook his head, a smile sneaking onto his lips. “Just curious if you like it.”

“It’s really good. Really, _really_ good.”

With that they kept eating quietly until their plates were empty and they had only the wine left to keep them at the table. That was when Tony suggested they move to the living-room, Stephen nodding and following him, both of them taking their glasses with them, the rest of the wine in Tony’s free hand.

They made themselves at home on the couch, a foot apart, glasses and bottle on the table. Of course with coasters preventing stains. Pepper would flip otherwise. Not that she lived with Tony, but he knew she was used to dropping by and still cleaning up his messes, even though he told her not to. _Old habits die hard_ , he thought and focused his attention back on Stephen. He didn’t want his thoughts locked on anyone else but the man right next to him tonight. The man who sat too far away for Tony’s liking.

Unsubtle as he was he scooted closer until their legs were touching, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’s with the chastity gap, darling? You scared my parents will catch us _in the act_?”

Stephen barked a laugh and gave Tony’s shoulder a light shove. The alcohol had obviously loosened both of them up a bit and Stephen’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Please, I would tell them to shove it. You are too irresistible to keep away from.”

And, damn, if that didn’t make Tony’s face flush an embarrassing shade of red. A few seconds went by while he searched for words, only to end up grabbing his glass and emptying it in one go, before refilling it with a not so smooth motion, wine dripping on the table. Tony cursed. But Stephen had already got out a handkerchief and was dabbing at the spilled wine.

“Now, that was clumsy, _dear_ ,” he teased.

“Are we already at the stage where we can use pet names for each other?” Despite his slight embarrassment, Tony couldn’t stop himself. He physically needed to join in with the banter and teasing, nudging Stephen’s knee with his own. He got a smile in return as Stephen put his handkerchief on the table, neatly folded, the wine stain gone from the glass plate.

And then he leaned into Tony’s personal space, swirling the wine in his own glass, before taking a sip. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Mr. Stark?”

“Not in the slightest.” And Tony even leaned in more, now licking his lips, his hand doing his bidding and placing the glass back on the table, lest he spilled any of it on Stephen’s elegant outfit. Which would mean getting him out of it to get it cleaned. Tony really wanted to see that body without the layers of fabric on it. Maybe being careful wasn’t his best idea right now.

“Good,” Stephen breathed and got rid of his own glass as well, angling his body to Tony’s. Their legs weren’t the only parts of their bodies touching right now and the heat of that knowledge and the accompanying feeling settled in Tony’s gut, making him feel warm all over. “Because I’ve been waiting to do this all evening.”

Tony had anticipated the kiss, but it still caught him off guard, soft and demanding as it was. Stephen’s trembling hands found their way to Tony’s face, keeping it in place and angling it to the other man’s liking. Usually Tony would object to not being in charge, but right now he didn’t mind, just closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the feeling. His own hands settled on Stephen’s hips, his body switching to autopilot as their lips moved against each other.

This wasn’t like their first kiss, no gentle exploring, no chaste, closed mouths. As soon as Tony reciprocated, Stephen turned to a faster pace, his movements becoming rougher as he pressed their mouths together, tongue swiping over lips, teeth nipping at them in a question for passage. And Tony obliged, letting Stephen take the lead, gasping slightly as his lips parted, welcoming the other into his mouth.

Tongues brushing against each other, teeth grazing, everything a bit sloppy, but oh so good. Tony felt himself melt against Stephen, his body soft and pliant as the other man moved them around, until Tony’s back hit the cushions, his legs spreading and Stephen settling between them, their chests touching. The thin fabric of their shirts did nothing to keep their body heat from mingling and Tony didn’t know what to think.

This was too fast and not fast enough at the same time and he wanted Stephen out of his clothes so badly, his cock taking an interest in their actions. And he could feel Stephen growing hard against him, could feel the other’s soft moans reverberating through his own chest.

Stephen’s hands weren’t idle either, brushing over Tony’s sides, tickling him unintentionally, making him squirm, before they snuck under his shirt, ghosting over his skin. Tony shuddered as trembling fingers mapped his tummy and sides, following the contours of his ribs. And when Stephen’s erection brushed against his own, he couldn’t suppress a moan anymore, loud and unabashed, open mouthed.

His eyes snapped open, looking right into Stephen’s startled ones and they stopped, panting into each other’s mouths, breathless from kissing and grabbing and keeping their moans quiet. But now that Tony had broken their unspoken agreement to stay silent, they scrambled to sit up again, not looking at each other. And when did he get so bashful, Tony wondered, trying to straighten his rumpled shirt and mussed hair with shaking hands. Next to him Stephen was attempting the same, failing as ungracefully as Tony, his one lock in disarray over his forehead.

Tony wanted so desperately to reach out and neaten it again, but he didn’t dare, still occupying his hands with putting his shirt back in his trousers. One of the buttons had popped open and he fingered at it, trying and failing to push it through the hole, cursing under his breath. When had he become a little boy again, who was ashamed to look his first crush in the eye?

After his tenth failed attempt to button his shirt again, he let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms like a child about to throw a temper tantrum. That was when he heard a chuckle, right next to him. Stephen couldn’t be outright laughing at him now, could he? Tony dared to take a look at the man, and sure as hell, he was chuckling, his eyes twinkling as he winked at Tony.

“Need a … hand?” Stephen asked, mirth in his voice as he gestured to the one open button. Tony felt himself pout and that apparently sent Stephen into a fit of giggles and earned him a “You are adorable when you pout”—which only made him pout _more_.

“I am _not_ pouting! And neither am I adorable,” Tony grumbled and tried again to button his shirt, this time succeeding in his task. “No guy wants to be called _adorable_ ,” he whispered, more to himself than to Stephen, who was still busy laughing at him, which made heat crawl up his neck. Tony was sure he was blushing by now—mostly out of embarrassment.

Suddenly there was a hand on his upper arm and he turned to look at Stephen, whose laughter had subsided into a small smile. It was one of the smiles that made Tony go weak in the knees and he sighed, looking away. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you. I’m sorry, this is kind of my fault, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Naah, don’t beat yourself up, I liked it. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Tony groaned and placed his head in his hands, hunching over. “Usually I’m not like … _this_. I don’t care about a good make out session or a rubbing or anything. I just … maybe I’m scared to fuck it up with you, because I actually _like_ you. Ugh. There. It’s out. Now make fun of me.”

“Tony.” Nope, he wouldn’t react. Not giving Stephen the satisfaction. “ _Tony_.” Okay, it was getting harder to pretend not to hear anything. Damn that smooth, dark voice! “ _Anthony_.” A shiver ran down his spine. This was unfair.

He looked up, right into Stephen’s concerned eyes. Those eyes had a habit of catching his own, like magnets. And then there was a hand, gently lifting his head from his palms by his chin, and he followed the motion, until they were nose to nose. Stephen closed his eyes, leaned forward and quickly pecked Tony’s lips. It was a tingling, short, sweet kiss and Tony sighed, now looking at Stephen under heavy eyelids. He refused to close them completely.

“I would never make fun of you.” Stephen’s voice was serious, as was the look he gave him. “I like you too. You don’t need to hide from me. This right now? It was hot and I liked how you were so pliant under my touch. I could do this all night, just kissing you. Because kissing you is amazing—not as amazing as you, but still. God, Tony, I feel so bad for going so far all of a sudden, I just wanted to kiss you so badly and I might have overstepped some boundaries. I want to apologise for this. Please accept my apology.”

The sincereness of the apology caught Tony of guard and he blinked one, two times. And then nodded. Because, why shouldn’t he? This was just a misunderstanding and Stephen had actually talked to him about it—which was a first. People usually just thought he was a dick and didn’t try to resolve their problems with him.

“Yeah,” he clarified and nodded again. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I think we were both at fault here.”

Stephen’s lips twitched as he nodded his agreement. “I think you might be right. Now, how would you like to proceed? Should I go home?”

_Hell no!_ “Hell no!” Tony spat out the words faster than he could think them, jumping up from the couch in one swift motion. “You stay right here, this evening isn’t over yet!”

And with that he left a dumbstruck Stephen on his living-room couch and sprinted into the kitchen, where the viscaria still sat in its vase, all nice and innocent. And now Tony would give it to Stephen to ask for an _equally nice and innocent_ dance. At least that was the plan. That had been the plan all evening—not that Tony was complaining. Apart from his little freak-out, the snogging and making out had been _amazing_.

With renewed vigor he took the flower and made his way back into the living-room. Stephen had made himself comfortable again, nursing his glass of wine that he had seemingly refilled as it was full to the brim. Scandalous. Tony smirked.

“That’s not how much wine you pour into a wine glass, Doc,” he admonished and Stephen looked at him, cocking an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed.

“Let’s say I need some courage,” he replied evenly, now sounding entirely sober.

Tony snorted, but could get behind that. Maybe he should take a swig himself before handing over the flower, but he stopped himself from doing so, when Stephen’s eyes didn’t leave him. Damn those eyes! Those beautiful, unique, colour changing eyes!

With a smooth step—at least smooth to Tony—he was right beside Stephen and held out the flower. The last he did not as smoothly, rather like he intended to punch Stephen, which he luckily didn’t do. God, _that_ would have been embarrassing!

Stephen stared at the flower. Then at Tony. Then back at the flower. “Is that a—”

“Viscaria, yes,” Tony interrupted him promptly, barely keeping himself from shaking with nerves. He had planned this. _He had planned this_. Everything would be _fine_. Stephen wouldn’t laugh at him and if he didn’t want to dance, he would tell Tony in a mature way. It would still hurt and crush Tony’s self-confidence, but it would be fine. He would react in a mature way, like breaking down right here, in front of this gorgeous man and—

“I would _love_ to.”

_Oh._ “Oh,” Tony repeated his one-word-thought cleverly. Then, “okay, yeah, that would be … nice. I guess. Yes. Nice.”

Stephen smirked and took pity on Tony as he gently plucked the flower from his hand and placed it on the table, his glass right next to it. That was when Tony remembered his good manners and offered Stephen a hand to help him up from the couch. Stephen took it and in one swift motion he was standing right in front of Tony, oozing confidence from every pore. Damn this man and his self-control! This should be illegal if you asked Tony. Nobody should be allowed to be in so much control over their body and emotions while Tony himself was a right mess. At least he thought he was a mess right now.

“Mr. Stark, would you do me the honour and dance with me?” Stephen’s voice dragged him right back to the here and now and Tony furrowed his brow at the words.

“Hey, I asked you to dance through the flower! You can’t just ask me now, that’s not how it works!” Be damned if he sounded like a child, he didn’t care!

Stephen broke eye contact and looked at the ground, trying to hide a smile. “Of course. My apologies. I accept your invitation to dance and would like to start now.”

“How romantic,” Tony deadpanned at the other’s choice of words. But he gave JARVIS the signal for the first song nonetheless. Yes, _first_ song. Because he was Tony Stark and he didn’t half-ass things. Of course he had a whole playlist to dance to with his hot doctor. Nobody should say that Tony wasn’t prepared.

_Dance Me to the End of Love_ started playing softly, JARVIS dimming the music enough so it wasn’t overbearing, but still present, making it perfect to dance to. With a swift motion and a lopsided grin Tony held out his hand. He felt bare and vulnerable as he wasn’t using his public persona, but Stephen had shown him tonight that he could be honest with the man. And he wanted to try, he really wanted.

Stephen looked up again and took his hand, scarred fingers tapping slightly against his palm with suppressed tremors. But it was perfect. To Tony it was perfect and so he closed his hand around Stephen’s, gently, always careful not to bring pain to the sensitive fingers. He tugged him to the middle of the room, free space welcoming them, and put his other hand on Stephen’s hip.

Stephen didn’t seem to have a problem with him leading and so he did, the song playing softly in the background, the two of them more swaying than dancing to the tune. And if Stephen stepped a bit closer, so they were nearly chest-to-chest, Tony wouldn’t say a word. This closeness was nice and very much welcomed. Now the only thing missing was Stephen resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. _That_ would really make his evening. Well, apart from the making out session they had had earlier.

 

_Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on_  
_Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long_  
_We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above_  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
_Dance me to the end of love_

 

While they kept swaying, feeling the ground beneath their feet, the music tenderly reverberating through the walls, coming from all directions at once, Tony let out a sigh. Some of the tension he had been holding in his body since he had given Stephen the flower, dissipated as soon as Stephen did indeed lay his head down on Tony’s shoulder. And everything be damned if that didn’t make him shudder and feel warm all over.

 

_Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin_  
_Dance me through the panic ’till I’m gathered safely in_  
_Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove_  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
_Dance me to the end of love_  
_Dance me to the end of love_

 

At one point during the dance they had loosened their stance, their arms around each other instead of keeping the traditional dancing position. It felt nice and intimate, Stephen’s breath tickling his neck, his arms warm and secure, engulfing Tony in a secure embrace. He could do this all night, could just stand here with this man, swaying back and forth, being in each other’s arms.

But the song ended and so did their dance. And despite him having prepared a whole playlist for them to dance to, Tony didn’t want to put his luck to the test. So he gestured for JARVIS to stop the music, the cameras around the room picking up on his request, the tunes fading out. But he and Stephen kept staying like they were, in the middle of the room, as close together as possible, breathing each other in. God, he didn’t want to let go.

In the end it was Stephen who peeled himself away, an ounce of regret on his face as he smiled sheepishly at Tony, before nudging his chin up with his index finger. Tony found that he quite liked it when Stephen did this, and complied good-naturedly.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go.” His voice was low, his baritone sending a shiver down Tony’s spine. But there was so much regret in those few words, Tony wondered why Stephen wouldn’t stay. Just for a few more minutes. His face must have conveyed how much he disliked Stephen’s words, because he was rewarded with a small smile and a quick peck to the lips. “It’s not because of you.”

“Well, that’s what I like to hear, Doc,” Tony tried to joke, but his voice fell flat and his smile felt fake.

“Hey,” another nudge to his chin. Another quick kiss. “I would really love to stay, but there is someone at home waiting for me.”

Tony’s body went rigid, before he forced himself to relax and play the words he had just heard off with another joke. “Yeah, well, can’t let the wife wait, can you?” It sounded bitter to his own ears.

Stephen chuckled. Why did he always chuckle when Tony was about to have a breakdown? This wasn’t fair. But the reason of Stephen’s amusement made itself clear through his next words. “I have a dog. And my friend couldn’t take care of him tonight, so I have to leave you early. I’m deeply sorry, but rest assured that I enjoyed myself. _Very much_. We will do this again. That’s a promise, Anthony.”

And if that didn’t make his knees weak.

Stephen gave him one last kiss, not as chaste as the last two, but not as steamy as the one on the couch. It was pleasant and Tony yearned for more.

“We will do this again?” Tony asked, a pleading undertone in his voice.

“I promise.”

And with that Stephen left the penthouse. Tony only realised about half an hour later that he never asked for the dog’s name. Damn, he really wanted to know it now.


	6. Linaria Bipartita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen’s grin only grew and he quickly leaned in to steal a kiss. Tony gasped in mock surprise and tried to get his kiss back, sticky smoothie sloshing over his hand and trousers In the process. That was when Tony and Stephen decided to place their glasses on the small table in front of the couch and exchange drinking smoothies for trading kisses. With sticky hands and dirty clothes and far too much laughter that made aiming for the mouth quite difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a long-ish chapter of goodness! (And next chapter there will finally be smut. *nudgenudgewinkwink*)
> 
> Big thanks to [Codee21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codee21/profile) for being an awesome beta once again!  
> 

Tony was busy in his lab, had been for the past few days as the prototype of the new StarkPhone needed to be done by tomorrow—as Pepper hadn’t failed to remind him. She had nagged him for a week, because the board members wanted to see it and the release date got closer and closer.

“Tony, the board meeting is in a _week_ ,” Pepper had said, sounding exasperated over the phone. And Tony couldn’t blame her. He _had_ delayed working on it, too occupied with thinking about the dates he’d had with Stephen. The two _very good_ dates.

A smile crept onto his face as he thought about their last one, having dinner together—and later that dance. It had made Tony giddy enough that he hadn’t been able to sleep afterwards. He wanted to do it again, wanted to dance with Stephen again, feel him humming to the music while his head rested against the other man’s chest. Tony sighed. Yes, it had been _really_ nice.

And now he was stuck in his lab, inventing stuff for his company. That wasn’t a bad thing, though. He _loved_ inventing and he had been lost in ideas and the progress of the new StarkPhone for the past several days. He didn’t even remember when he had last slept, which could be a problem if Pepper found out. Or Rhodey. Tony would get an earful. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought and he shook his head.

Finally taking a break, he had DUM-E bring him a smoothie. The bot had learned to make them by now. The first ones had been a health hazard if Tony was honest—motor oil, even when mixed with vegetables and fruits, didn’t make for a good drink. But now his little, faithful bot had mastered making really tasty smoothies, the simple recipes updating in his memory with each new attempt and Tony’s approval and disapproval.

“Thanks, DUM-E,” Tony said affectionately as he took the glass out of the bot’s claw, patting said claw with his free hand, and sipping at his drink. He nodded, satisfied. “You are getting really good! Maybe I should rework you into a bar bot.”

That earned him a happy _beep_ in return and an excited little twirl from DUM-E that looked everything but graceful.

God, his bots made him so happy. They were so easily excitable and they never wanted anything from him, except a pat on their claw or sometimes his attention when they were especially proud of something. Like cleaning the lab without breaking anything, for example. Which was a real feat.

“Sir, Doctor Strange is at the door. Should I let him in?” JARVIS’ disembodied voice echoed through the lab and Tony lifted his head in surprise.

“What’s Stephen doing here?” He wondered aloud, draining the last of his smoothie in one go.

JARVIS was quick to answer him, clever AI that he was. “I assume he wants to pick you up for your third date, Sir.”

Tony stopped. And thought. “No,” he said slowly, “that’s tomorrow.”

“You must be mistaken, Sir, it’s today. Maybe it’s because you worked through the night. Again.” If an AI could sound disapproving, JARVIS’ British lilt had it down to a T. And Tony felt actually remorseful.

“Damn,” he murmured under his breath. Then, louder, “let him in, J. Lead him down into my lab, will you, bud?”

“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS replied dutifully and Tony sighed.

Tony busied himself by putting away the prototype, that was luckily completely done by now. He considered cleaning his workspace a bit, but disregarded the idea immediately. He wouldn’t get anything done in time. Instead he cleaned his hands on a dirty cloth—well, as much as possible. There were grease and oil stains everywhere on his worn and ratty clothes as he had not only worked on the phone but also repaired one of his cars a few hours ago. Or was it yesterday? Tony shrugged, not really caring anymore.

What he cared about was what Stephen would think of him, forgetting their date like this. He cringed with embarrassment when he realised that he didn’t even have a flower. Okay, he could deal with that before Stephen came into the lab.

With a few swipes to his screens he had ordered one of the flowers he had saved since their last date. Tony had learned that he shouldn’t look for fitting flowers last minute and so had organised a file from which he could choose the ones that he needed. JARVIS would make sure that the ordered flower would arrive soon enough.

Not a minute later a smooth _ding_ announced the arrival of the elevator and, thus, the arrival of one Stephen Strange. Tony watched as the man stepped out and into his lab, his clothes far too neat and formal to belong into Tony’s unkempt workshop. He needed to keep himself from cringing and just hoped that Stephen’s nice clothes wouldn’t get dirty.

He walked over to the man, an apologetic smile on his face, until he came to a stop right before him. “Hey, Stephen,” he said softly and looked the other in the eye, before gently taking his hand and brushing his fingers over the scarred skin. “Sorry, I was in a working frenzy and completely forgot about our date. I thought it was tomorrow.”

It wasn’t the best apology, but Tony didn’t know what else to say. And so he waited for Stephen to scold him and tell him that he couldn’t date someone who would just forget about him.

But Stephen only shot him a smile that could be seen as a slight smirk, before he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s mouth that made his lips tingle pleasantly. “I think I got the memo when you told me excitedly about your inventions on our first date. I can’t say I’m too pleased that you forgot about me, but at least you did so while doing something you love.”

Tony gaped. He had expected everything. From Stephen being mad at him, to shouting, all the way to Stephen storming out in a rage. But not this gentle smile and the kiss and especially not these words. Tony couldn’t help himself but get onto his tiptoes and press his lips to Stephen’s in a desperate attempt to convey how grateful he was.

Stephen caught him around the waist, holding them together, and reciprocating the kiss just as enthusiastically as Tony. Tony worried briefly about the grease stains on his clothes, most likely ruining Stephen’s formal wear, but the hot mouth pressing against his cleared his head soon enough. Fingers tangled in the hair in the nape of his neck, a tongue slipping between his lips, noses bumping, teeth clacking. It was not a well-coordinated kiss, but it was honest and good and everything Tony wanted in that moment.

When they finally parted, Tony was panting, their breaths mingling, while they looked in each other’s eyes, both of them grinning stupidly, their faces flushed, hair mussed. Stephen looked good like this, Tony’s fingers still in his hair, taking the neatly styled strands apart with soft, slow movements.

“I think I might have ruined your clothes,” Tony finally said softly, not taking his eyes off of Stephen’s, wanting to sink further into these fascinating irises.

Stephen hummed and quickly pecked him on the lips again, which only made Tony smile brighter, his face about to split in two if that were possible. “I can get them cleaned,” was the simple answer, before Stephen let his hands glide back down to Tony’s hips, their trembling going right through the old band-shirt Tony was wearing, vibrating against his skin. It was nice.

“I’m truly sorry I forgot,” Tony apologised again, but Stephen only shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Maybe we could still do something? Or should I leave?”

And, oh god, Tony knew he didn’t deserve someone who was this thoughtful, who took his feelings into consideration. But he _liked_ Stephen and a little selfish part of him didn’t want to let the man go, scared he wouldn’t come back. “Please stay?” He asked and Stephen nodded.

With that settled, Tony led him over to a couch he had in his lab, for emergency naps. He didn’t know if he slept in his own bed or on this couch more often these days, so it was well-used, soft to the touch, and maybe a bit dirty. _Well_ , Tony thought, his eyes lingering on several dark spots on Stephen’s white shirt and he cringed internally, _not much more to ruin now._

“Would you like something to drink? A smoothie?” He asked and Stephen lifted one eyebrow.

“A smoothie? That’s unconventional. But yes, I would like one, thank you.”

Tony nodded before he turned around, looking for a certain bot. “DUM-E? Where are—ah! There you are! Get us two smoothies, will you?”

DUM-E beeped excitedly, whirred in understanding and rolled over to the bar to make their drinks. Tony just hoped the stupid little thing wouldn’t try to transport both drinks in one go. That would be a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Stephen looked after the bot, an expression of awe on his face as he turned to Tony. “Did it understand you?”

“He,” Tony corrected without thinking about it, looking fondly as his little bot started to make the smoothies. “Yes. DUM-E is my oldest bot. Not the most advanced, but for all I threaten him with donating him to MIT or the local library, I wouldn’t give him away for the world. He is like a child for me, you know?”

And when he turned back to Stephen, the man had as much of a fond look on his face as Tony. But in his case it wasn’t directed at the bot. “Yeah, that sounds like you,” he said, his voice low, and it made goosebumps appear on Tony’s naked arms.

“Does it?”

“Yes. Tony, you are always so very fond of your creations, one would be stupid to dismiss the feelings with which you create. It’s inspiring. I like to think it’s much the same as when I work with flowers. I would have never thought I would grow to love it so much, but I do. I mean, it’s not neurosurgery, but it makes me happy nonetheless.” Stephen stopped his little monologue, obviously waiting for Tony’s reaction.

And Tony wanted to react, wanted to ask about Stephen’s days as a doctor, but they’d never gone so far and Tony didn’t know if he would cross a line. So he started off slowly, testing the waters so to say. “Do you miss it? Being a doctor?” He asked carefully, making it obvious that Stephen didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to.

But Stephen, once again, just gave him that soft smile of his. “Yes, I miss it terribly. But I have learned to live without it. I’ve learned to love something else. You have to know, my work was _everything_ to me. I _lived_ for my work and I couldn’t imagine a life without it. And then …”

“The accident?” Tony’s voice was quiet, his hand reaching out to Stephen’s, who took it immediately, obviously seeking some form of comfort.

“Yes.” Stephen’s voice was equally as quiet and his eyes strayed away from Tony’s as he swallowed. “It was … Tony, it was terrible. I don’t even remember what exactly happened. I was on my way to give a speech at a Neurological Society dinner”—which Tony already knew, but he let Stephen talk, not wanting to interrupt him, now that he was opening up to him willingly—“and I was speeding. I was an idiot, talking on the phone, looking at some scans someone sent me. I don’t remember it anymore, but I was told that I overtook another car quite recklessly—which sounds like me if I’m honest—and grazed it. I lost control over my car, crashed down the side of a hill, the car somersaulted several times, my hands were crushed—”

Stephen was breathing heavily and Tony grabbed both of his hands, squeezing them gentle enough not to hurt Stephen, but hard enough to centre him in the here and now. And the breathing gradually steadied until Stephen swallowed quite heavily, his eyes haunted, his hands trembling more than ever.

He looked at Tony, eyes blown wide with suppressed fear, and Tony’s heart screamed in sympathy. He took one of his hands away to cup Stephen’s cheek, the other man immediately nuzzling against his palm. “You don’t need to tell me,” Tony whispered reassuringly, his thumb brushing light circles over the soft skin.

And Stephen looked so utterly devastated at the words, turning his head a bit more, so he could press a light kiss against Tony’s palm. “But I want to. I want you to know. God, Tony, I … I want to be with you. You’ve grown to be so important to me.”

Tony nodded, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. “But, Stephen,” he started, licking his suddenly dry lips, “if it gets too much …”

“I will stop, yes,” Stephen finished his sentence. The haunted look in his eyes had vanished, was barely visible anymore, and that put Tony at ease. “Uhm … they found me hours later. It was too late, the nerve damage too severe. It was obvious that I would never be able to hold a scalpel steady again. But I didn’t want to hear it. I raged, I tried to find ways to get my hands back—I was an even bigger ass than usual, even though that was hardly possible. I even wanted to sell my condo to go on a spiritual journey, had heard about some wonder medicine through _magic_ in Nepal. But luckily my best friend beat some sense into me.”

A wistful smile appeared on Stephen’s lips and Tony wanted to get to know the person who could keep Stephen Strange on his toes. Because Tony was sure, the man was a force to be reckoned with if he set his mind to it.

“They seem like a good friend,” he said and DUM-E used that moment to bring over the first smoothie. When Tony looked at the table where the bot had prepared the drinks, he could see three glasses lying there, juice dripping down onto the floor. DUM-E beeped sadly as he saw Tony’s gaze. Tony sighed quietly but didn’t say anything. He took the glass from DUM-E’s claw and handed it to Stephen, who had to take it with both hands, because they were shaking so badly. Tony winced.

“Thank you.” Stephen’s voice was hoarse and he took a careful sip, before declaring, “this tastes good!”

“Yeah, DUM-E is a real little genius when it comes to smoothies,” Tony said proudly, before the bot came back to hand him his own glass. Turning to DUM-E he ordered, “now, clean up your mess!”

The claw drooped and a sad, drawn out _beep_ was heard, before the bot whirred off, back to the table.

Stephen chuckled. “Don’t scold the poor thing like that!”

“Oh, he is used to it,” Tony replied easily and took a sip himself, happy with DUM-E’s concoction. “Now, back to that friend of yours—will I meet them at some point?”

“Her. Christine. And yes, you will. But in turn I want to meet Miss Potts,” Stephen replied easily, a slight smirk curling the corners of his mouth upwards. It nearly seemed like the serious conversation between them hadn’t happened at all. “I have a feeling I will get along with her splendidly.”

Oh yes, he probably would. And Tony didn’t want to think about the havoc those two could wreak together if they set their minds to it. It made him shudder internally and squint at the man next to him. “You want to get me into an early grave, huh?” He asked teasingly and Stephen grinned.

“No, I want to have you for myself for a bit longer, before Miss Potts and I plan your murder,” he responded and chuckled at Tony’s put out expression.

“Not cool.”

Stephen’s grin only grew and he quickly leaned in to steal a kiss. Tony gasped in mock surprise and tried to get his kiss back, sticky smoothie sloshing over his hand and trousers in the process. That was when Tony and Stephen decided to place their glasses on the small table in front of the couch and exchange drinking smoothies for trading kisses. With sticky hands and dirty clothes and far too much laughter that made aiming for the mouth quite difficult. But Tony felt so happy and carefree, despite the heavy topic they had discussed earlier.

Until someone cleared their throat. Tony didn’t want to stop mouthing at Stephen’s throat, but the other man pushed him away adamantly, face red. With a groan Tony complied and looked for the source of their disruption, ready to give whoever dared to enter his lab an earful.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark! I didn’t know you had a visitor, Miss Potts said I could just go to the lab and work on my projects, you know, and I really need to get it done by Thursday for school or MJ will have my head and—”

“Kid, take a breath,” Tony interrupted the rambling teenager that stood in the door to the workshop with a badly concealed chuckle.

Peter, visibly uncomfortable at the sight of the two of them, fidgeted with his sleeves, his eyes darting from them to the ground, back to them, a blush spreading from his neck to his cheeks as he tried to stammer a high-pitched answer. “I—I think I should go? Now? I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark!”

“Calm down, Pete, I’m not about to rip your head off,” Tony replied easily with a smile and got up from the couch. “Maybe I should do the introductions, before this gets any more awkward than it already is. Peter, meet Stephen. I’m dating him—obviously. Well, okay, not obviously. You have probably heard about me being a playboy and all. But whatever, I’m dating him, he is a great guy. Stephen, meet my personal intern. I’ve never met a more intelligent kid—he will be better than Bruce Banner and me some day, I tell you.”

Stephen stood up and smiled gently at the fidgeting boy, who was blushing furiously at the praise and who was clearly nervous about meeting his mentor’s—boyfriend? Lover? Tony didn’t know which label to give them and so he refused.

“Hello, Peter, nice to meet you. I would shake your hand but I’m afraid Tony sloshed smoothie all over them.”

That made the boy chuckle and grin with mirth. “Sounds like Mr. Stark,” he said cheekily.

“Watch it, Underoos!”

But Peter only grinned at him, the smile lighting up his face like a mini-sun. Tony sighed in mock annoyance, before shaking his head. He walked over to one of the sinks in the workshop to clean his hands quickly, before stepping up to the teenager who seemed a bit more at ease now. Stephen had watched him the whole time and now made his own way over to the sink to get rid of the sticky feeling on his hands.

Tony turned to Peter instead of watching Stephen and said, “how about you go to the other lab? I’m obviously busy making up for forgetting my date with Stephen and I’m sure Bruce would be elated to have you around.”

At first Peter’s face fell, but at the mention of working with Bruce he grinned again, widely. “That would be awesome! You don’t think Dr. Banner would mind?” He asked, uncertainty tainting his voice and Tony rolled his eyes fondly.

“Naah, he won’t, don’t worry. And now skedaddle, I have a hot doctor to romance.”

The boy groaned and murmured something along the lines of “I didn’t need to know that”, before he hopped back into the elevator, waving at them while the doors closed.

As soon as Peter had left them, long arms snuck around Tony’s waist, dragging him against a tall, lean body behind him. Tony chanced a look over his shoulder, only to see Stephen, his chin now resting on said shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek.

“So, that’s your intern?” Stephen asked, voice low, as he pressed Tony’s body closer against his chest, eliciting a light shudder. Before Tony could answer, a kiss was pressed to his cheek, hot breath ghosting over his skin.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, feeling heat crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. “Pete’s awesome. Little genius that one.” Tony knew he would start to ramble on about the kid if given the chance, but he really didn’t want to right now. No. Right now he wanted to lean against Stephen, enjoying the warmth and the embrace he had found himself in so suddenly.

He could feel Stephen nod. “He seems like a good kid. Awfully polite. And cheeky.”

Tony snorted. “Believe me, he wasn’t as cheeky before he met me.”

“Who would have thought.”

They stood in silence for a few more minutes, relishing each other’s touch, Tony letting his head fall back, his nose pressing against Stephen’s neck. Making up his mind, he quickly licked it, eliciting a sound from the other man that was something between a grunt and a laugh. Tony did it again.

With a swift motion Stephen turned him around, nearly manhandling him—Tony didn’t complain in the slightest—and bent down to nip at Tony’s neck. A squeak that totally wasn’t a squeak if you asked Tony later, came out of his mouth and he could feel Stephen grin satisfied against his skin, silent laughter shaking his body. And Stephen did it again, nipping gently, before peppering kisses over the spot, making Tony’s knees weak. If there weren’t still arms around his waist and if he hadn’t grabbed onto Stephen’s upper arms, Tony was sure he would have sunk to the floor. But as it was, he was secure in Stephen’s arms, his neck getting far too much attention for him to handle.

“Stephen,” he panted, not really knowing what he wanted to say, but trying nonetheless.

The man in question stopped, drawing back to look Tony in the eyes. Stephen’s pupils were blown wide, a hint of arousal in them. It made Tony yearn for more, made him want to take Stephen to bed right now, made him want to ravish the man here, on one of his workshop tables.

“Everything alright?” Stephen’s voice was hoarse and Tony could do nothing but swallow hard and give a nod, before Stephen pressed a hard kiss against his lips. But as soon as he had leaned in, he drew back again.

One of his hands let go of Tony, the other still keeping him steady. And to Tony’s surprise Stephen pulled a small flower out of his jacket. It looked a bit worse for wear after their several make-out sessions in the last hour, but it was a flower nonetheless.

He held it out and Tony took it, his eyes glued to the magenta coloured blossoms. “What is it?” The question was soft, much like the delicate flower, now lying on his palm. It was beautiful, in Tony’s eyes. Simply because it came from Stephen. Stephen, who always knew what to say, who made him feel special and gifted him meaningful flowers. And in that moment Tony knew that he had wanted this for a long time. Someone who actually cared about him rather than just his money and his influence. Of course he had his friends and they were wonderful, but this? This was different. Tony had never been romanced before.

“It’s a linaria bipartita,” Stephen said and when Tony glanced up, Stephen’s eyes weren’t on the flower, but on Tony himself, and he felt himself blush. “It has a very … personal meaning. And if this is too soon and too fast, you can tell me—”

“What does it mean?” Tony inquired again, not wanting to hear any excuses.

And now, that was precious, but Stephen looked away bashfully, a flush rising to his cheeks. Tony would dub it as _adorable_ , but didn’t say it out loud, waiting for Stephen to speak. Which he eventually did, after a minute of silence. “Me giving this to you means that I want you to notice my feelings for you.”

The words were soft enough that Tony needed to strain his ears to hear them, but when he did, a smile split his face. It was close to being painful to smile so hard, but he couldn’t help himself. He got up on his tiptoes for the second time today and kissed Stephen soundly on the lips. A shocked expression that morphed into a shy smile was his reward and Tony hoped that JARVIS got a good angle on them, so he could save this shot of them forever.

Cupping both of Stephen’s cheeks with his hands, Tony made the man look at him. “You are so precious, Stephen Strange,” he whispered and pecked those sinful lips after every two words. “I want to be with you so badly it hurts physically. And I don’t mean that you are giving me blue balls. Okay, you do, but not right now.”

Stephen looked at him, mouth agape, before he started to laugh. “You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?” He asked under laughter, mirth dancing in his expressive eyes as he pressed Tony closer against him. The flower lay forgotten on the floor.

“That’s me, Doc,” Tony admitted without shame. “I don’t do emotions. Not well, at least, so you have to live with _this_.”

Another kiss. “I think I can do that,” Stephen said, and then, “I also think I couldn’t have gotten a better deal. You are amazing, Anthony.”

And, god, did Tony want this infuriating man right here, right now, wanted to fuck him senseless, wanted to kiss every inch of his lean body, wanted to map every bit of skin with his tongue. But he kept these thoughts to himself, just staring at Stephen in wonder. “You mean that?”

“I mean it.”

Nobody could blame Tony for smashing their mouths together and kissing Stephen like his life depended on it. And Stephen responded in kind, kissing back just as passionately, until their lips were red and swollen, shining wet with spit, their pupils blown wide in arousal, their breaths coming in gasps. They were both flushed, faces red, bodies feeling hot.

And then Stephen had to kill the moment with one single sentence, and yes, Tony probably deserved it for ruining the mood earlier, but honestly, couldn’t the man wait? “Your trousers are sticky.”

A beat. Then, “could be because of the smoothie I accidentally emptied over them.”

“We should get you out of them.”

“Yes, we should.”

Ah, this took a rather interesting turn. If anyone asked Tony later, he would deny ever having complained about Stephen’s bad timing in his head.

“Tony, I don’t mean it in a sexual way.” Mood ruined again. Damn this man! “Even though I would love to take you to bed—third date and all—”

“This counts as a date?” Tony interrupted him without thinking, because this wasn’t a date in his eyes. This was a disaster turned make-out session. Not that he was complaining.

Stephen tilted his head in consideration, but nodded after a second. “Yes, it does. But still, we are both sticky and it gets uncomfortable. I also have a feeling we will attract a good part of the animal kingdom if we keep smelling like a sugar buffet.”

Tony grimaced, but had to admit that Stephen was right. It was really getting uncomfortable and Tony would like nothing more than to take a shower and wash off all the sweat and dirt and grease he had accumulated over the past few days.

He sighed. “You are probably right,” he replied and let his head thump against Stephen’s collarbone, which prompted the other man to tangle a slightly trembling hand in Tony’s brown locks, blunt nails scratching gently over his scalp. It was quiet for a moment, Tony contemplating if he should say the next words. But then he thought _screw it!_ And just did it. “Join me?”

“Okay.”

This simple word made Tony look up into mischievous eyes.

“Okay? Just like that? Damn, Strange, you are easy,” he teased with a wink and a quick peck to those still deep red lips.

“Maybe you make it easy for me to be easy. God, Anthony, you don’t know what you are doing to me,” Stephen admitted, a growl in his throat. He pressed his nose to Tony’s neck, hot breath ghosting over his still kiss-sensitive skin.

Another shudder wrecked through Tony’s body, making him gasp as he tilted his head to the side to give Stephen’s lips better access. “I’m not complaining. God, I’m really not. C’mon, I don’t want to wait, please.” He hadn’t wanted to beg, but Stephen’s mouth did things to him and his cock was getting interested in those things. And if he could have Stephen in his shower, he would take the chance.

Stephen complied quickly and Tony dragged him out of the workshop and into the elevator, where they kept kissing like horny teenagers, until a loud _bing_ announced their arrival in Tony’s penthouse. Breathing heavily they exited the elevator, eyes locked onto each other, and Tony just grabbed Stephen’s hand, leading him to his bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom.

“Let—” Stephen panted, licking his lips, before he tried again, “let me strip you? Please?”

Tony could only nod, lifting his arms over his head, so Stephen could get rid of the band-shirt he was wearing, leaving Tony only in his pants. But those, too, were soon on the floor, quickly followed by his tight, black underwear. There was nothing erotic about it, but it still made Tony’s whole body tingle with nervous anticipation.

Stephen took a step back as soon as Tony was standing naked in front of him, admiring what he saw. Tony felt a bit exposed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Usually he was not shy about his body—he knew he looked good—but right now he didn’t feel like boasting, didn’t feel like showing off what he had. Still, his cock was half-hard, remembering the heated kisses they had shared, the searching hands in the elevator, grazing over hot skin, making goosebumps break out on his arms and legs, making his neck tingle pleasantly.

“You have nothing to hide.” God, if that sinful voice got any deeper, Tony was sure he would be able to come just from Stephen talking to him. Gentle but sure hands took his wrists, dragging his arms away from his chest and Tony squirmed shortly, before going still again. “You are beautiful, _Anthony_.”

Tony was sure Stephen knew what that name out of his mouth did to him and so he scowled at the man. “We are not on even footing here, Stranger!” He replied, his hands sneaking out of the other’s grasp, before quickly going to Stephen’s not entirely clean button-down. He glanced at Stephen and received a nod. That was all it took for him to start to unbutton the shirt with deft, sure fingers.

It didn’t take long for Tony to get Stephen out of his clothes, too, and turn on the shower, the water warming up quickly. But they both kept their eyes on each other, not being able to look away, taking in each other’s bodies greedily. It was like discovering a new toy, probing and prodding it, until you knew it like the back of your hand. And, god, did Tony want to know Stephen’s body like that. He yearned for it with his whole being. So he let his eyes roam.

Tony would have never thought that Stephen hid corded muscles under those neat, a bit too wide clothes of his, nor that he would have a thing for _arms_. But, hell, if Stephen Strange decided to strangle him with _those_ arms, Tony would gladly say _thank you_ and face his destiny. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, his fingers trailing over Stephen’s face first, then down his neck, his arms, the contours of his ribs, slowly down to his belly, thumbs rubbing over the happy trail leading to the man’s half-hard cock.

And Stephen wasn’t idle, either, scarred hands exploring Tony’s body gently, taking nearly the same route Tony’s had followed, but ending up squeezing Tony’s ass with an unsure grin. It felt like a fire was spreading over his skin, following each touch, each little brush of fingers. Tony’s cock twitched in interest.

“Like that?” Tony asked, cheeky tone to his voice.

Stephen swallowed and nodded. “You have a _nice_ ass.”

“Thank you, pumpkin.” And yes, maybe he sounded very smug about the compliment, but Tony had always been proud of how his ass looked. Hell, he bought trousers, not because they fit well—well, not only because of that—but mostly because they hugged his ass nicely and made it look even nicer.

Stephen chuckled.

And then they stepped into the shower and all the sexual tension between them fell away in a heartbeat as the beam of hot water hit them, drenching them from head to toe in a matter of seconds. It was like a whole new world, a whole other part of being intimate with each other. This felt like a really big step in their relationship—their relationship that they hadn’t defined with a term yet. But at least showers made Tony relax like nothing else, only rivalled by the blissed out feeling of an earth shattering orgasm, and so he let the tenseness in his body be washed away by the water.

Stephen’s hands came up to push some of Tony’s bangs out of his face, pushing his hair back, so they could keep looking into each other’s eyes, soft smiles gracing their faces as they just kept staring. It was like coming home, like falling into the arms of a loved one. And it kind of was. Because Tony was sure he was steadily falling for the man in front of him. For the man whose hair was a mess right now, grey and black strands mingling together. For the man whose eyes were entire galaxies, dragging Tony to worlds unknown. For the man who made him feel worthy of love and affection, who made Tony want to do everything for him.

“You are a miracle, Stephen Strange,” he said into the silence of the pattering water. “I want you to be _my_ miracle.”

A heartbeat passed and Stephen’s face grew serious. “I want to be yours, Tony. Only yours.”

The kiss was sweet and innocent and conveyed everything they felt in this moment. Tony wanted it to last forever, but he was a grown man, knowing that it couldn’t stay like this. It wouldn’t. But he was happy enough to have this little moment right here, right now, with Stephen kissing him, holding him, showering him with affection and … love? Yes, maybe that.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” Stephen murmured after another kiss against Tony’s lips and Tony felt himself nod in agreement. He still felt grease on his skin, even if the water had done a good job at cleaning him roughly, but he needed actual soap to get rid of the rest.

Tony found he quite liked getting washed by Stephen. Even if his hands weren’t as strong anymore, it was still a blessing to feel those fingers on his skin and in his hair, working away the dirt and giving him a gentle massage. They were still secure in what they were doing and Stephen knew exactly where to apply pressure to work out the kinks in Tony’s back, eliciting pleased groans. Tony never wanted this to stop. He would pay Stephen if he only kept going like this, but he was sure the man would decline. Even if Tony would pay him very generously.

He changed his mind as soon as it was his turn to wash Stephen, because he quite _liked_ it. He liked working his hands through Stephen’s soft hair, parting the dark from the grey and trailing down to his neck, rubbing it gently and feel Stephen relax under his ministrations. He kept working his hands down Stephen’s body, mapping it again, this time more thoroughly. And it was so distinctively intimate, but at the same time so innocent—Tony would have never thought he would experience anything like this.

Usually when he shared a shower with someone, it ended in sex. This was nicer. This was intimate in a whole other way, with little neck kisses thrown in between.

Tony was almost sad when they stepped out of the shower and bundled themselves into soft towels.

“You look really relaxed,” Stephen remarked and Tony detected a pleased undertone in his voice.

He nodded. “Yes. Thank you, this was really nice. And I mean it. It was _really_ nice. Nobody has ever showered with me like this. Usually it ends in sex, not in … well, this,” he trailed off awkwardly, shrugging sheepishly.

“I know what you mean.” And that was it. There were no more words and neither of them needed to talk anymore.

They just basked in each other’s presence, until JARVIS’ computer voice interrupted their silent togetherness. “Sir, your flower delivery is at the door.”

Stephen shot him a disbelieving look, before bursting into laughter. “You are unbelievable.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on Tumblr as [descaladumidera](https://descaladumidera.tumblr.com/)!


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